


Cycles

by BlueMonkey, regina_stellaris



Category: Warcraft (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Awkwardness, Blow Jobs, Bus!au, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, Christmas Smut, First Christmas, First Dates, First Time, Khadgar is crushing harder than a twelve year old girl, Kissing, Lothar is a dick, Lothar loves kids, M/M, Misunderstandings, Old Ladies on Buses, Pining, Pre-Slash, Safer Sex, Self-Denial, Self-Doubt, Slow Burn, Smut, Thanksgiving Shopping, The entire Bus ships them, for how long though?, insecure!Lothar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-08-28 07:15:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 44,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8436397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueMonkey/pseuds/BlueMonkey, https://archiveofourown.org/users/regina_stellaris/pseuds/regina_stellaris
Summary: They take the same bus every day.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is how a quick brainstorming for an idea can turn into spontaneous RP. I blame the discord chat.
> 
>  _BlueMonkey_ is Khadgar, _regina_stellaris_ is Lothar.

Lothar and Khadgar take the same bus every day.

They don't know it for a long time. Lothar likes to sit in the back because from there he can see everyone—he blames his military background for this—and Khadgar usually sits near a door; he can get so nose deep into one of his books that he sometimes forgets to get out at his stop.  
So they aren’t really aware of each other. But one day the bus is so full that they are forced to sit together in the back. Khadgar can’t focus on his book, as the bus keeps making turns and jostling the two of them together.

People get off at every stop until it is just the two of them on the back of the bus. To move away to a different seat is awkward, even though staying is too. And it is winter, the bus’s air-conditioning not the best; so to share body heat with a fellow passenger is rather excellent.

The cold window that Lothar is pressed against, not so.

Khadgar is used to the cold and has come prepared. Halfway through, his heating pads are still warm against his palms but he doesn't need them anymore, so he offers them to the shivering passenger next to him to use.

“I'm fine,” mutters Lothar and refuses them. Khadgar knows he isn’t, so he gets a little stubborn with the man and practically pushes them into Lothar's hands.

That is all they say. Lothar kind of appreciates the warmth, but will not say thanks.

To Khadgar, it is a personal victory anyway.

As stubborn as they both are, they return to their appointed seats the next time, trying to pretend the other isn’t there at the same bus stop they get on. The problem is that they get off at the same bus stop too, so it always looks like one of them is stalking the other.

-

Winter passes and spring comes along. They go without acknowledging each other for months when another rush in the bus brings them back together. It is not quite a coincidence, yet Khadgar is simply an expert at pretending that their meeting is coincidental when he ends up next to Lothar again.

This time, Lothar very obviously puts in headphones and starts listening to music, not interested in talking to Khadgar at all.

Disappointed, Khadgar turns his shoulder, dives into a book. He doesn’t get why Lothar has to move his leg closest to Khadgar to the beat blaring in his ears, the appeal of listening to music on the bus rather foreign to him; it drives the younger man insane.

The bus takes another sharp turn. Khadgar would have known that was coming, but he is not sitting straight in his effort to avoid Lothar, and so he ends up toppling back. Or into the other man’s lap, more specifically. In the process, he rips the headphones out of Lothar's ears because the wire gets caught somewhere on Khadgar's jacket.

Khadgar doesn't know how to get away from that—the guy on his other side is snickering—but the bus just doesn’t let him. "I'm so sorry," he repeats in several variations while he tries to scramble back into his seat several times.

As he finally manages to sit upright again, Lothar just grunts in response, shooting an annoyed glance at Khadgar before he plucks the headphones back into his ears and listens to his music once more, trying not to look at the other man for the remainder of the drive.

So Khadgar, who believes himself to have really messed up, does get up at the next stop and finds himself an empty seat. He's dying from embarrassment along with a tinge of, well, rejection.

Lothar hates the young man for the interruption, and even more so when, not moments later, an old lady sits next to him and pokes her long manicured fingernail into his side. When he takes out one of his headphones to acknowledge her presence, however faintly he's aware of it, she asks him if he's married. He would be a perfect fit for her granddaughter. Lothar wants to kill Khadgar.

He rolls his eyes and just puts the headphone back in, but the lady is insistent. She nags him for the rest of the ride.

-

Early that fall, there is the problem that all seats are taken, bringing Lothar and Khadgar together once again as they have to stand on the bus.

Khadgar and Lothar aren’t initially close to another. The two people between them get out at some point, though, leaving a gap. Khadgar looks at the man under his lashes, holding what appears to be new curtain holders. He isn’t prepared when at the next turn the bus screeches to a halt, making Lothar almost slam into him.

Lothar manages to get a hold of a bar, but his curtain holder smacks Khadgar's shoulder. He feels like he should apologize. He just doesn’t want to.

Khadgar knows by now that Lothar seems to have something against him. Possibly for forcing those heating pads on him, half a year ago. So he does the best he can; he gives an annoyed look right back and mutters under his breath, “Whoever could be so stupid as to transport curtain holders in the middle of rush hour?”

Lothar is halfway through trying to ask if the younger man is okay when he gets that withering look, he just knows he is good not talking to him. Furthermore, to make a point, he gets out at the next bus stop. It isn’t their stop.

Khadgar knows this. To be honest, he didn't think Lothar cared. So he stares at the retreating form, and for some reason he feels horribly guilty. And then annoyed. The stranger has some nerve, first making Khadgar feel like shit on several occasions and then quitting out of rage.

By now several of the other passengers have picked up what is going on between them, seeing them both on a daily basis. The old lady with the nails throws him with a vicious glare and says, " _You_ can't have him. He belongs to my granddaughter."

-

The next time fate intervenes and forces them together is at the beginning of fall. Lothar looks terrible. His eyes are rimmed red, and he keeps sniffing. A thermos in hand, he fills the scorching liquid into the cup and takes a sip while the scent of chamomile permeates the entire bus.

Khadgar gets some vindication out of standing nearly in front of him, his usual seat taken, with the heating pads snugly, pressed against his palms. He doesn't know how this has become a contest, or why he feels like he has to convince a bunch of strangers that he is not hopelessly messed up in the head and attracted to this asshole of a guy. But he does it anyway.

So Khadgar is ready to pull out his smug smile, but somehow when the opportunity arrives, it just doesn't happen. Lothar looks downright pitiful, being this sick. "Try honey," he says lamely and makes sure to get as far away from him as possible at the next stop, his eyes fixed on something outside the window and avoiding everyone on the bus.

Lothar does not know what to make of this information. He's not dumb; of course he knows that honey helps—he's got a kid, for fuck’s sake—but his cold dulls all of his emotions, turning him into a miserable shadow of who he is. He drinks his tea, not knowing if the warmth that spreads through his belly comes from the hot liquid or from the younger man's words. While he is busy trying to discern it, his brain slow and oddly stuffy today, the old lady sits next to him again, not bothered by his germs. "My granddaughter could have told you that, too."

Lothar groans and is willing his stop to come sooner.

The next time he sees the kid is when Khadgar gets on the bus before him, already seated in his place. Lothar's voice is still hoarse, but at least he doesn't cough his lungs out anymore. When he goes past Khadgar, he mutters a quick "Thanks" to him before taking his usual seat, feeling peaceful yet conflicted at the same time.

Khadgar spends the entirety of that bus ride not knowing what to do with himself. It is the first time Lothar has said anything to him that is nice. His insides feel like they are on fire, and he is pretty sure he is blushing. He is so obvious that everyone can tell—anyone who can see him, at least. Twice he glances over his shoulder for a glimpse of the man. He tells himself that this is nothing. It isn't. Lothar’s words were common decency.

Of course, he continues to pretend that he doesn't care. Because Lothar clearly wouldn't like him that way. But Khadgar does wonder how much longer he is going to keep himself together when they get on the same bus every day.

-

The next time they are forced to sit together is the day before Thanksgiving. Lothar bought tons of things this year, with him being the one to host. There are several bags standing on his feet, as he doesn't want the paper bags to soak in the water that oozes from his boots. Today the heater is emitting warmth, turning the inside of the bus into one big clammy space. Lothar starts to feel hot around the neck, opening his jacket to cool himself off, before he drags the zip of his black turtleneck down, revealing a slither of skin. He doesn't really care for the glances he gets, and he also doesn't care for the young man pressed against him is what he tells himself. In truth, he just pretends he doesn't care. The boy’s presence is nice, and perhaps his first impression of the other was wrong.

His belongings crowd into Khadgar's space; Khadgar's luggage is remarkably little. He must be the only one not looking forward to that holiday where everyone is coming together as one big happy family; he doesn't have a family, so that makes things very simple for him. Thus he doesn't mind when some of Lothar's groceries are more on his lap than anywhere else. "Big plans, huh?" he wonders when he rights one of Lothar's bags as it threatens to fall.

Lothar looks to the younger man, still not sure what to think of him. But the guy had just saved one of his bags from ending on the floor, so he could at least talk to him. "Yeah," he says, "My sister insisted." He's never been one to talk to strangers too much, and he sure as hell isn't going to tell the guy his entire life story the first time they embark in a conversation. "And you?"

Khadgar shares that philosophy. "Nothing big," he says noncommittally because he isn't going to go into the sob story that is losing his parents at the age of six. He offers Lothar a smile and then pretends to return to his book. He can be cool, he reminds himself. It wouldn't do well to respond as eagerly as he wants to this guy he already has some sort of history with, even if said history is built on the foundation of getting on each other's nerves.

The girl on his other side, for some reason, suddenly takes up more space than she needs and pushes him closer against Lothar. To save himself from the embarrassment, Khadgar figures he might as well get up and give Lothar more space for his stuff. "Here," he mutters, glaring at the girl.

Lothar is a little surprised when Khadgar stands up but is thankful for the space. He says as much "Thanks," short and a little unsure, but a small smile tugs at the man's lips. Before he can do anything and take the space for himself, however, the old lady pushes herself towards him, looking at Lothar with resolution in her eyes. He pales, not wanting to endure her insistent nagging yet again, so he looks at the only solution there is: Khadgar.

"Sit down again," he says quietly as not to make the old lady suspicious, "Please."

Khadgar finds the cause soon enough. And he thoroughly dislikes her as well. So he sits back down and mutters under his breath, "You have some serious issues with your grandmother-in-law."

Lothar realizes that he is now in a bit of a situation: he can either pretend to have a conversation with Khadgar, or not, making it likely that the woman will ramble at him about her granddaughter even if she has to stand near him to do it. So he chooses the lesser of the two evils, obviously—and is it really an evil?—and starts talking. "Not really, my mother-in-law and I are fine," he says loud enough so that the lady gets the hint. And technically it's true, he is still on good terms with his wife's parents, even if Cally has been dead for almost two decades now. "She's coming for the feast tomorrow."

Khadgar doesn't know what to make of this. Is it that the old lady is not Lothar's grandmother-in-law? Or does he have a grudge against her? At any rate, he may have hoped for a denial, but his hopes are pretty much swatted into the ground. This man is married. "Ah," he says, "Well. Nice to know that I can ignore it when she gets on my case again."

"I think it would be better, yes," Lothar finally sags in relief when the old woman is taken into a conversation with another man, one who has tried to talk to Lothar before, asking him if he was single. If he didn't know any better, he could swear that half the bus is trying to set him up. A small headache throbs behind his eyes. "That woman's been getting on my nerves since spring. So thanks for saving me, I guess." He clears his throat and holds a hand towards the boy. "Anduin Lothar."

"Huh," muses Khadgar, "About the same for me. You're welcome, I guess. Khadgar." He shakes his hand and holds his breath. It is wisest to stop this crush as fast as he can, now that he knows what he knows. It really doesn't help that the conversations in the bus collectively drop to a hush. "If she ever gives you trouble again," he tries to keep the subject on business, "count on me."

Lothar is a little surprised at the response, but shrugs mentally and then grins. "I will, I guess." He doesn't know how to continue, what to talk about with the other man—Khadgar—and he feels far too rusty in his small talk to find the situation comfortable. Thus an awkward silence settles over them, and Lothar feels as if half of the people on the bus stare at him condescendingly. It grates on his nerves, making him revert into himself even more, so he plays with the string of his jacket. God, when did he get so awkward around people? _Get a grip, Lothar!_ "So," he finally manages to press this word out of his mouth, a process that is more exhausting than liberating, "What do you do for a living?"

The interest startles Khadgar from his confusing thoughts. He has always been good at answers. "I archive stuff," he says, "Down at the bureau.  It's nothing high profile, but I like it. Sometimes when I am done, I help out at inventory. I'm an, uh," he rubs his nose, "Intern. Forensics. But of course, all the good forensics internships were already taken." Once the words come, they don't stop. "You?"

"I'm an instructor." Somehow Khadgar's words soothe Lothar's sudden nervousness, if only a little. "I teach self-defense classes all day, mostly for children, though." He'd always been good with kids, any kids, except for his own son. How that has come to be, he doesn't know. He's just glad Callan doesn't hate him completely. "And you're a forensics intern? Aren't you a little too young for that?"

"Senior year," Khadgar is quick to rectify that lapse of judgment. "Just a few months and I'll be graduated. They'll have to upgrade me to a real job. Well," he rolls his eyes, "I hope they will. The job is great but the pay less so." He ignores the old lady, and absently wraps an arm around one of Lothar's bags when it nearly slips. "Is that the school next to the bureau?"

"I see." Lothar keeps the old woman in the corner of his eyes to make sure that she doesn't get to him. He absentmindedly notes that there are only three stops to go before he has to get out, nodding at Khadgar's question, "Yes, it is. We also do some daycare for all the guys that have kids or provide traumatized children with counselors, but we're mainly a school." His tone is a little proud when he says it. "Nothing is better than the rush you get when you make a kid laugh or show them how to set up safe words with their parents."

He doesn't know why he talks so much; it's not like he knows Khadgar besides the few words they've exchanged with each other thus far, but something makes him talk like crazy. Trying to reign himself in, he clears his throat again and then looks to the announcement of the next stop. His destination comes into view. "I've gotta get out. We can," he interrupts himself as he takes the bags into his hands, makes sure he has all of them while he simultaneously looks for words, "We can talk some more at another time, yeah?"

Khadgar doesn't want to overstep his bounds, but he also knows that they get out at the same stop, so this is clearly a dismissal. He gets up too and hands Lothar the last bag. "Yeah. That'd be nice. Have fun tomorrow." He lingers before walking up to the exit, noticing how the lady claims a seat under a loud clamor of 'kids these days.'

At this Lothar can't help but snort loudly, "Yeah, fun. It's gonna be hell, kid." His shoulder slump and he grins somewhat, the awkwardness creeping back into him. He doesn't know what to say, and he feels like he did something wrong just now, but he can't quite put his finger on it, so he pushes it into the back of his mind and pretends he hasn't realized it.

He exits the bus alongside Khadgar. The vehicle screeches away. His shopping bags are heavy in his arms as he turns to the younger man again, then sighs deeply, "See you soon, kid. Thanks for the help again." With that, he turns around and leaves in the direction of his apartment.

And so Khadgar is torn. They talked, which is great, but then he sort of got dismissed. And tomorrow is Thanksgiving, which Khadgar does not care for. Also, the object of his affection is married. He waits for a few seconds by the stop before crossing the street.

He is one of the few people on that bus the next day. But thank goodness he has a couple of days off when everyone else starts working again.

-

A few days after Thanksgiving, Lothar takes the bus again, but this time he's not alone. At his side is his nine-year-old niece, Adariall, wearing a light blue parker. Her eyes light up when they enter the bus, "Uncle An, can we sit at the front?", and the regulars see Lothar torn, because his corner has become sort of his safe haven while being on the bus, but he loves his niece to death and can't deny her any wish, especially when she looks at him like she does right now, so it's no surprise when he says, "Sure we can, honey."

She practically drags him to a seat, and only at second glance does he realize that he's going to be sitting right across from Khadgar. For some reason, this makes him nervous, and he has half a mind to ask his niece to take a seat in the back. But Adariall insists and plants herself on the slightly hard seat, dangling her feet in apparent glee.

Lothar needn’t have worried, though, because Khadgar does not ride the bus that day. Or the next. Only on the third does he return to his usual seat. He glances in the direction of Lothar's empty corner once, then sits down at the front, taking out his book.

Once more Lothar is not alone, but today it is not Adariall. Varian also makes it very clear to his uncle that he wants to sit on the front, and insists on being by the window. He takes up so much space that Lothar has to sit down next to Khadgar, without realizing who it is. Only when he looks to the younger man does he finally see him. "Oh...Khadgar." It's still awkward to talk to the younger man, but not as bad as it has been before Thanksgiving. "How are you?"

Khadgar blinks and nearly spills the drink he was unscrewing, and quickly puts that away before anyone can tell. "Why are you sitting here?" he asks instead, as bluntly as he doesn't intend to get. Never has Lothar come up front. Never. So it takes a few seconds for him to process this. "Good. Yeah, good. Took a train and traveled for a bit. It was nice. Uh." He should ask how Lothar has been, but Khadgar is just too baffled.

Lothar nods towards his nephew, that little bolt of energy wrapped inside a human child, who is taking up the two seats across from Lothar and Khadgar. He kneels on them, looking out of the window like he's never seen the neighborhood before. "I'm babysitting for my sister," he says, putting his hands into the pockets of his jacket, "and Varian insisted that we sit in the front. He loves it here."

Varian has apparently listened partially, because he turns his head towards Khadgar, "The front is my favorite place." Then he squints his eyes, "Are you my uncle's friend?"

Khadgar looks back at Lothar for what he is supposed to say. "Well, we ride the same bus every day," is a safe answer. "Are you coming with him to work?"

"Yes. Uncle An is going to show me how to behave if someone grabs me." Varian nods to himself, proud of the answer, or as proud as a seven-year-old boy can be. Then something seems to go through his head, and he looks at Khadgar, eyes wide, "Are you the guy that's driving my uncle crazy?" Lothar, who has just been about to drink something himself from a water bottle, chokes on the sip he took and looks at his nephew shortly before he starts coughing.

Khadgar looks pained. _Driving Lothar crazy_. He didn't think he had been that bad. He doesn't know what to say, his fingers grasping his bag, as he suddenly wills the two of them to sit elsewhere. An awkward silence descends.

Meanwhile, Lothar wants to strangle Varian, he really does. Why can't the kid keep his mouth shut for more than a minute?! He throws a warning glance towards the boy, but his nephew is already busy gazing out of the window again. Looking to Khadgar, he sees how tense the other is, and assumes it's because of Varian's comment. Lothar rubs a hand over his face, the silence following the statement could be cut with a knife. Should he just...you know, ask? Fuck, he's bad at this. Finally, he takes a deep breath.

" _Wouldyougooutforcoffeewithme?_ " he presses out really fast, looking anywhere but at the younger man's face.

Khadgar is ready to complain. Whatever Lothar will say, he is ready to get up and 'oh look, this is my stop' and disappear from this man for the rest of his lifetime. An earlier fare, a later return; all of those are possibilities. But when he processes what Lothar says, _actually processes_ , he can't help but stare. "Me? Are you asking me? I thought you—aren't you married?"

Now Lothar gets confused. He thought that the younger man would decline him either politely, or just tell him to fuck off. He isn't ready for such a question yet. But Khadgar seems to have assumed something that is not right, so he takes a deep breath and tells the awkwardness to go fuck itself. "I was married. My wife died twenty years ago." Suddenly, he realizes why Khadgar would think that he's currently off the market. "Do you think I am married because of what I said the other day when that old lady tried to chat me up again?"

Khadgar lamely shrugs. Yes, that is exactly the reason.

Right now he is trying to suppress that nervous shake in his hands. He is aware of half of the bus watching what unfolds, and one kid pretending not to—though ready enough to kick his uncle if he messes up, Khadgar gets a distinct feeling. "I'm sorry," he whispers. Also to keep their conversation somewhat private. He smiles to himself. "A cappuccino for me. Lunch?"

He might also vaguely wonder how old Lothar is, if he was married twenty years ago, and decides that it’s not relevant.

Lothar shakes his head. The thought of his wife does not sting as much as it used to anymore. "If you'd like that," he answers just as quietly. Varian makes a very weird noise, something in between a squeal of approval and a snort, and Lothar has the distinct feeling that he will make sure his uncle won't fuck up. Taria raises her kids too well, _dammit_. "Are you free today?" With Khadgar's agreeing to his first question, it does not feel as bad anymore to ask the younger man out. "There is this Italian place near the bureau. They serve warm meals and excellent coffee throughout the day.."

"Well, I'm headed towards work," smiles Khadgar with amusement and less of a nervous breakdown. "If it suits you to meet up after I'm done, that'd be nice." The next stop is theirs, so he presses the button and, although he knows exactly where to find Lothar if he needs him, he takes out his agenda and a pen, tears out the page of the date—it isn't as important anyway—and writes down his phone number. "Call me whenever."

Okay, that may sound a little desperate. But it can't be half as bad as the urge to kiss the other man right here and now. Khadgar offers a soft smile instead.

Lothar takes the paper carefully, looking at the number as if he's never seen them before. He silently folds it into a smaller square, then puts it into the pocket of his jacket, before giving Khadgar a little unsure smile as well. "I'll get off work at four and then have to take him home," he nods at Varian. "It shouldn't take more than an hour, so I could be back here at about six." He hopes he's not going too fast, it has been such a long time since he really tried dating anyone.

Not to Khadgar, though, who has been pining after this idiot for the larger part of a year, "Six is good. Yeah. I can be here at six." He is grinning now and continues to do so until they exit the bus, walks down the same path with him in a daze, and says goodbye at the bureau. Varian is beaming up at Khadgar; Khadgar only has eyes for his uncle. "Tonight." Lothar grins shyly and waves the younger man goodbye when it is time to get to work.

And if Lothar buys Varian ice cream on their way home later that day, no one has to know.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By popular demand, we decided to write some more...

That night at six, Khadgar waits at the spot where he and Lothar agreed to meet. It is getting dark, and he wonders if he should find a better spot, because of course it has started to rain. He is afraid to miss Lothar though, checking his watch every minute.

Lothar runs a little late. He curses the bus driver mentally, calls him every bad word he's ever learned in his head, but does nothing else about it in order not to delay this further. When the vehicle finally stands, Lothar is the first to get out and practically runs to the meeting place. He sees Khadgar is still there and breathes deeply, relieved. "Hey, Khadgar," he says as he jogs to him, "Sorry I'm late."

Khadgar half expects him not to show up. At five minutes past six, he has already convinced himself that his date-to-be must have thought twice and then decided that this is all a really big mistake after all. Worse is that he doesn't know how to respond when Lothar does make it to the spot. Does he hug him? Shake his hand? Just smile and nod and keep a respectable distance? "It's fine," he says, "you're here now."

He looks around, but it is just the two of them. Khadgar feels his cheeks heat up. He smiles awkwardly. That's what a day of thinking about all the things in which he can mess this up has done to him.

"Yeah, I'm here now," Lothar says just as awkwardly, rubbing a sweaty hand against his jeans. He is nervous as hell, and doesn't want to fuck this up, not now that he finally had the balls to ask the younger man out. The pep talk Taria gave him on returning Varian to her comes back to his mind. She had told him to just be himself, to not overthink things too much. But how is that even possible? He's a marine; he is trained to think of every scenario in advance. Clearing his throat, Lothar realizes they've been standing here for some time. The streetlight flickers. "Er-- alright." He looks for words. "The restaurant is not far from here."

"Right!" Khadgar instantly latches onto the one handle he has. "Coffee, right!" He looks around, waits for Lothar to start walking, and then when Lothar does not, he carefully edges back until they are both going somewhere. Putting his hands in his pockets, Khadgar is almost too afraid to sneak a glance. What if Lothar sees him? Christ, he should have really gotten himself some distraction today. The date isn't going to go well if he doesn't make sure he says something soon. "So, uh," he tries, "how was your day? Did your nephew do well?"

He looks at Lothar out of the corner of his eyes. How does this man still manage to look good in the simple slapped-together outfit that he wears?

It really isn't helping.

Eagerly Lothar latches onto the one topic he most likely won't be able to shut up about. "Oh yes, he did really good. His hand-feet coordination is a little off, but that'll come to him once he does the routines every week." While he talks, he starts to walk into the direction of the restaurant, slowly and in no hurry. "I've had a serious case today though. I think one my kids is being abused at home. She's got the signs, you know? Flinched every time an adult came near her or someone suddenly did something she wasn't prepared for. It's probably gonna take a few more sessions but as soon as I can get her to talk to me, I can do something about it." He looks up, realizing that he has talked a lot right now. Perhaps it's the nervousness that shakes his tongue loose. "Sorry, I'm rambling. How was your day?"

"No, don't apologize for that!" Because Khadgar is more than glad that Lothar talks. The case that is mentioned concerns him, and maybe they ought to talk more about it, but for now he stores it under possible topics for later, as Lothar clearly changes the subject. "Uh, my day was so-so. I don't know. Not really special, you know? I suppose I didn't get as much done as I wanted to do, but then I did take my time so I wouldn't have to go home between work and dinner. My supervisor wasn't too happy about that. So," he rolls his eyes, "I was sort of kicked out on the streets at five."

"That's harsh," Lothar mulls it over in his head, then he turns to Khadgar mid-stride, eyes wide. "Wait. The guy didn't literally kick you out, did he?" He continues to walk, faintly aware of the people walking past them, but he's too busy admiring Khadgar's profile, his mind wandering to places it hasn't been to in a long time. Clearing his throat, he returns to his former position, eyes to the front, a faint red hue to his cheeks.

Of course, he might have done better not making a sound, for now Khadgar turns to him. It is dark enough for him to miss the flush; not quite dark enough to miss the fidgeting. He pulls back and looks at the street with a small smile which doesn't diminish his nervousness in the least. "Well, no. But do you ever get that people dismiss you just by looking at you? It was like that. For ten minutes straight. Boy, was she not impressed."

Lothar nods eagerly at Khadgar's words, "Yeah, tell me about it. I get that all the time. Especially when I have a kid in my class whose behaviour is really bad. When I talk to the parents to give them tips how to handle their child, they just dismiss me with a look and leave."

Talking about kids has always been a good thing for Lothar, something he feels comfortable with, but then Khadgar turns around and walks backwards for a bit, and Lothar tucks the subject away for later. "So is this just coffee?" The younger man scratches his nose. "Because I'm kind of starving."

"Well, they serve excellent food as well. I was there last month with my sister and her family for her wedding anniversary." He doesn't say that, just a few days after that, it would have been his anniversary as well. Swallowing, he keeps walking, trying to get the melancholy threatening to rise under control.

"Oh. That's nice." The undercurrent is picked up, but Khadgar keeps quiet. He turns back to walk alongside Lothar again, his arms stretched and practically tugging his jacket down his shoulders. "Sounds like you meet a lot of people every day, hm?" It's not really his thing. Still, Khadgar likes how animated Lothar becomes when he starts about it. "Me, I know I've done something bad when I'm meeting someone I haven't met before. I really wish they could just switch me to an actual forensics team. I'm good with archives, but I want to do fieldwork too. And it's just me down there. Well, and my supervisor. But it would be better if she was not."

He stops when they reach the restaurant. "I'm sorry. I'm only talking about myself." Khadgar should probably warn Lothar about that. "Your sister? Is she your nephew's mother?" He finds that talking doesn't seem to be much of a problem between them anymore, at least for now, though he still feels a certain pressure not to say anything dumb.

Again Lothar nods. He shrugs his shoulders at the same time, a clear sign that he doesn't get a kick out of meeting people every day. Before he can say something about it, however, Khadgar already continues. While the younger man complains about his job a little there, Lothar studies him, looks at how young he really is. Khadgar is probably even younger than Callan, he muses, and the thought makes something ugly bloom in his chest, making him think he's a cradle robber. But it's been so long since anyone has shown any interest in him that it feels nice having a little attention directed his way, even from a man as young as Khadgar—no, especially from a man as young as Khadgar. "She sounds like a real pain in the ass if you ask me." Lothar grins to cover his own awkwardness.

He comes to a halt in front of the restaurant as well and opens the door. Through the windows, Lothar can see the tables illuminated by soft light. Perhaps the ambience is a little too romantic, but who cares when the food is good, right? To stop that train of thought right there, Lothar shakes his head, coincidentally with Khadgar's apology. "Don't apologize for that." It gives Lothar the possibility to get to know Khadgar without having to ask about it, "And you're right, she's my nephew's mom. Her husband, my brother-in-law, is my best friend. We've known each other since High School."

"Oh wow." Now, curiosity piqued—Khadgar can't help it, he loves a pinch of gossip—he leans forward and tips his head. "Your best friend? How did that happen? Did you introduce them? That's kind of…well, that's kind of romantic. Though maybe not for you? Hm." He waits for the waiter to come direct them to a table and bites his nail. The restaurant is lovely. He has never been here before, but it really is. It is also filled with almost exclusively couples. Men and women. And their joy is a world apart from their two awkward selves.

He forces himself to look past it though. Now that he's got Lothar, and Lothar showed up, Khadgar isn't going to let go that easily. "Is it expensive here?" he whispers under his breath so that nobody can hear it. "I just got my paycheck. Am deciding whether I can splurge."

At Khadgar's sudden curiosity, Lothar can't help but laugh a little, "Hold your horses." He says, a grin splitting his face. Thinking about how his sister and Llane got together is always fun. "I actually didn't do anything. Llane came over pretty often, and one day he saw my sister getting ready for a party. It was like…a revelation to him." He interrupts himself when the waiter shows them a table in the back. It is fairly hidden, and Lothar is glad about that, as he would like to pretend to be alone with the younger man and not have to stare at all the couples while he eats.

When the man leaves to get them cards, he continues his story. "He came to me and asked me how he could ‘woo' my sister. I think I laughed at him for a good hour until I realized that he was serious. He was so awkward about it all that I was relieved when they finally went on a date. And don't even get me started about his proposal. That man might be a very good speaker, but toss him a little emotional business and he becomes a bundle of nerves." Sitting down, he waits until the waiter has brought them cards before he answers the last question, "It's in the middle range, but the food is really good and more than makes up for it."

Khadgar gobbles it all up with great interest. " _No_ ," he whispers a laugh when Lothar talks about his best friend asking permission to woo his sister. How awkward that must have been. He doesn't have any family stories of his own, so he can't quite draw a parallel and tell Lothar about his own fun with any brothers or sisters. It means that he enjoys Lothar's stories even more.

The younger man glances at the menu while still biting his lip to prevent his joy from becoming too free. This is a respectable establishment; he will not be that guy who ruins other people's fun as well as his own date by laughing too loudly. And boy does he have a penchant for that. "That must have been so weird. They didn't create really uncomfortable situations or anything? I don't know, like making out in public, stuff like that?"

He looks around and, secretly, whispers, "Don't look, but I think the waiters are all trying to figure us out." So maybe he is nervous and says these things too lightly.

Opening the menu, Lothar can't help but chuckle yet again, "Llane was really shy at first. My sister was more the headstrong type. If she wants something, she takes it. But over time, Llane became more comfortable with public affection, and it got less awkward to be around them. The first few times were hell, but I didn't really pay attention to them that much after that, with meeting my wife and all." He stops, bites his cheek, the thought of how he met Cally not something to discuss during dinner. So he leaps at Khadgar's hushed remark. "Let them look. They won't say anything unless we don't behave. They're professionals."

What Lothar doesn't say, however, is that he is quite nervous too. Nervous that he fucks this up in any way, or by opening his stupid mouth at the wrong time. So as not to say too much right now, he takes a look at the menu, asking himself what he wants to eat. "The fish is really good here."

"I'm not a fan of fish," Khadgar blurts out before he realizes what a bad date move that is. Stifling himself from other uneducated comments, he buries himself in the menu for a good three minutes, going over the main courses several times. In the end, he is torn between a steak, spare ribs and a premium truffle burger that looks like they added the truffle only to make the dish acceptable enough to appear on the menu. "Give me a number between one and three?" he asks.

Lothar, who's currently torn between getting smoked salmon and a steak himself, looks at the younger man with wide eyes, "How can you not like _fish_?" His tone is horrified, and perhaps a tad bit teasing. He grins soon after. "Actually, that's good. More fish for me." Deciding to get the salmon anyway, he rubs at his right wrist absentmindedly, fidgets in general. "Two," he says to Khadgar's request, and soon enough the waiter comes to them, asking them what they want. He gives the man his order, the salmon and a water on the side. He doesn't feel like sweet drinks today.

"Well, see—" And Khadgar is about to launch off into a story about that time when he had bad fish, once, and it spoiled fish for him forever, having to throw up for three days straight. At the last moment, he decides not to. "I just don't like it," is what he settles for, with a mildly wry, "Don't ask. You won't like the story," to explain to Lothar that it isn't that he doesn't _want_ to talk. He smiles sugary sweetly at the waiter, who likely knows exactly what kind of story this was going to be. "Spare ribs with fries on the side, please. And garlic sau—uh. Tzatziki? Wait, no. Hold on. Have you got sour cream?"

Because he is an idiot, and dying to ask, he turns back to Lothar the moment the waiter is off, tucks a hand under his chin, and asks, "How old were you when your sister and your best friend met?"

The man opposite Khadgar isn't so sure if he wants to hear that story either. He likes eating fish, catching fish—the task has a certain calmness to it that he sometimes needs after the crazy months in the city. Taking a sip of water, he listens intently to Khadgar's food choice. _Guess he doesn't want to get kissed tonight_ , the thought pops into his head just like that, and he can just manage not to choke on the sip. What is wrong with him?! _I would kiss him even if he ate that—no, hang on, what's happening?!_ Desperately trying not to let Khadgar know that he has a small mental breakdown, he coughs awkwardly, trying to get comfortable again by telling the younger man what he wants to know. "Well, they met a few years before they got together. I was…I think I was 15 or 16 at the time, I can't really remember the date. And they didn't get together for another two or three years after that."

Khadgar nods along as Lothar speaks. He is drawn from his curiosity by the waiter bringing them their drinks—him a coke, and Lothar has water—but as soon as he leaves, Khadgar's attention is focused on Lothar again. It is hard to imagine that this is the same guy who wouldn't even acknowledge his existence when they first met, let alone say thanks for borrowing his heat pads; Lothar now talks like they are old friends catching up. Which, Khadgar realizes, isn't very romantic. But romantic makes him nervous, so he bears it with grace. God, he wants to do things to that mouth. "So I guess that makes you around forty now?" he wonders aloud. Is he okay with that? Khadgar thinks it over, hums, and makes a sound of approval. Very well.

"Forty-one to be precise," Lothar scratches his cheek lightly, "I hope I'm not too old for yo—er, I mean, um…," and there is the awkwardness again. Lothar clears his throat, faintly wondering how he isn't sore yet—because he's been doing that all day it seems-- and one of his hands curls itself around his glass of water as if he needs something to hold on to, "How old are you, if you don't mind me asking?" His heart beats in his chest and his lips are dry, so nervous is he. Drinking a sip of water, he hopes that it helps him to get some moisture into his mouth again, but that fails miserably. So he licks his lips, nervous as he is. _Thank you, Taria_. Being himself is making him so tense that he can barely enjoy this evening.

Khadgar shrugs cheerfully. "Twenty-four," he pipes up. "And you're definitely not too old for me. If I'm—" he realises he might be talking a bit loudly and quiets in both decibels and demeanour, "—uh, if you don't have a problem with age either. Right." His face is beet red. _Think before you speak_ , chimes in his head. _For once, Khadgar. It should not be so difficult_. They have gone back to awkward. Speaking like old friends is better than this. Khadgar twiddles with his hair and looks down at his coke. He downs half of the glass in one go. To think that they still have to go through the main course, which is another half an hour at least, suddenly feels like the worst decision ever.

Sighing in relief, Lothar almost feels how the tension drain out of his shoulders. "Twenty-four, huh?" Twenty-four is good. Callan is still younger than this man. Everything is fine. Or at least it would be fine, if Lothar could open his damn mouth. He searches for a topic, something to talk about with the young man, when the waiter comes to their table and brings them a small basket filled with freshly cut, still steaming bread alongside a red paprika dip. Lothar has half a mind to occupy his mouth by eating one of them, but then hesitates. He doesn't want to leave the situation like this, hanging in the air, not knowing if the other person is going to say anything at all. "Twenty-four is…good." He rubs his neck, "At least I don't feel like a cradle robber anymore. Not that I thought you were that young—er, I mean, you look younger than your age. Which is a compliment, really." He mentally facepalms at himself and tries to change the subject rather blatantly, "Did you always want to work in a forensics team?"

Opposite him, Khadgar has stopped pretending that his plate is more interesting. He stares as Lothar fumbles with his words, then stumbles over them and then, then tries to cover it up by changing the subject. He sees his own distress mirrored straight back at him. Does he look that awkward, he wonders? "Cradle robber?" he can't help but inquire. "Oh my god, Lothar, cradle robber? That's—that's mildly offensive. I'm not _that_ young. I'll have you know I'm sure I can still teach you a thing or two." There he goes again, speak before he thinks. But then again, maybe that is also what they need right now. "Just to be sure, you didn't invite me out for a coffee because I look younger than I am, right?"

The older man can't help but blush in embarrassment. "I'm sorry," he says, "You just—you look younger than my son, you know? He'll become twenty-one in a couple of months. I assumed. Shouldn't have done that." Lothar feels weird. He probably spooked the other now with the confirmation that he is a father already. "And I invited you because—dammit, because after Thanksgiving and our talk, and all the other things that happened between us, I couldn't stop thinking about you." He is a little loud, but reins himself in just before he spits out the big revelation, "I really _like_ you, Khadgar. Despite my actions. I'm just—god, I have been out of the "game" so to speak for such a long time, I have no idea what I'm doing."

"You have a son who is twenty-one?" Khadgar now spurts out. "Jesus. No wonder." He is on a date with a long-time dad. One, his traitorous thoughts supply, looks really fit for his age as well as the fact that he's had something as stressful as being a dad going on for twenty-one years now. "This isn't—this isn't weird to you? Because I can assure you, I am exactly where I want to be, but wow, your son is about my age? And here I am telling you that I don't care about your age, when mine must make you all sorts of uncomfortable."

He takes a deep breath, leans his head on a hand, and watches Lothar. "There is no game," says he. "If there is, I don't know the rules. I'm guessing you don't, either." A smile peeks up. "I really like you too. Which, I'm sure you understand, has been rather frustrating on the bus. What's up with that old woman, anyway? Telling me to back off because of some granddaughter you're not even seeing."

At that point, and strangely fast, their plates are served to them.

"Thank god I'm not the only one," Lothar sighs in relief again. He does that a lot today, too. "This entire dating thing currently feels like I'm riding a bike. Except the bike is on fire, the ground is on fire and I'm wearing a blindfold." He tries to lessen the awkwardness with a small joke, and then their meals come, smoked salmon with a juicy tomato salad and bread for Lothar, spare ribs with fries and sour cream for Khadgar. Both of them have yet to touch the bread that the waiter brought a few minutes ago, as it still stands on the table in its basket. Lothar doesn't care, though; the salmon looks so delicious that his mouth waters at the sight. Although the thought of that old lady lessens his appetite a bit. "I have no idea what goes on in her head. The first time she spoke to me, she wanted to set me up with her granddaughter. I mean, who does that with a stranger in the bus? For all she knew I could've been a serial killer with a shitty attitude." Somehow, the thought that Khadgar is just as insecure and unsure as the older man makes something in Lothar give way, and the conversation with the young man becomes less awkward the longer they engage in it. "One more thing. Call me Anduin," he grins slightly before he takes the first bite of his salmon, ripping the fish apart with his fork.

Khadgar tests the name on his tongue. He smiles, the ice broken at last. They are both here for the same reasons, and he could be letting his brain do overtime trying to process what that means and if he should have shaved—he is not a fan, but some men like that, he supposes—and that he should have just gotten half a day off and taken a shower, because here he is, less than perfect, and he wishes he was dressed a bit better for the occasion. So he could be thinking about all of that, and take them straight back into awkwardville. Instead he picks at his spare ribs, ignores the cutlery and digs in.

At the third rib, he wonders what will happen if he licks his fingers clean.

Digging into his meal, the older man appreciates the silence that has settled around them somewhat. It is not awkward like before, but rather comfortable, giving Lothar enough time to organize his thoughts. He's searching for something to talk about, something that would continue this easy companionship they now settled in. "How is you meal?" he asks, watching the younger man eat his ribs while he himself brings one of the cherry tomatoes to his mouth. A part of him wants Khadgar to do something arousing like licking his lips, to see if Lothar's thoughts from the last couple of minutes are as sexy as they are live. God, those lips are doing things to his head.

"Good," nods Khadgar. "Yeah. It's, uh, see, the flavor is really good? A bit sweet but not too much, you know? I mean, not that it spoils the meat. Because sweet spare ribs are amazing." He licks his fingers clean once more instead of going for the napkin, and digs into the small fancy carton of plain old fries. "Want some too?" Thinking that his moment of gutsy effort to draw Lothar's attention by licking his fingers has not garnered him the wanted effect, he does not think when he absently licks his lips at the end and readies himself for another rib. "And the fish? No regrets there?"

It's like a switch has been flicked inside the older man's hand. His fork still is in his hand, but rests on the edge of his dish, forgotten, while his free hand is used to keep his head upright while his eyes track the movement of that sinful tongue as it sneaks out and moistens those lips. Khadgar licking his fingers has been sexy, but not as much as this! He doesn't know why, but he wants to follow that tongue inside the other's mouth with his own and-- he is interrupted when Khadgar asks him about the fish. "Er—yes, no regrets. It's delicious. They really know how to make it here." His heart beats inside his chest like a caged bird trying to get out. Lothar doesn't remember when he last felt like this. "Are you sure you won't give it another try? You can have some of mine, if you want." He'd do anything just to see that motion again.

The salmon does look delicious. It smells great, too. But Khadgar passes with a small gesture. "Wouldn't want to spoil the night by getting sick again." He senses it, the moment Lothar notices what he does. At that point, Khadgar becomes self-aware and weakens his signals considerably. He uses a napkin again, doesn't lick his lips, and is every inch the respectable gentleman that this establishment expects him to be. When he once ventures to lick his lips again, the effect he has is so instantaneous that he is sure.

"Anduin," he starts. "Let's not go for dessert here."

Of course, as soon as Khadgar says it, he goes red again and bites his lips to control his emotions.

That part, he will admit, was not intentional.

And again Lothar finds himself captivated by those lips, how Khadgar's teeth catch it between them, only to graze over it until it is more chapped than before. He clears his throat and takes a large bite of salmon to calm himself. He can feel his blood pumping through his veins, trying to go south. But he really doesn't want to have an erection in the middle of dinner, thank you very much. God, he's really desperate, isn't he? "Is that an invitation?" he therefore asks the younger man, one of his eyebrows raising while he grins. _Khadgar is really cute when he blushes_ , he things absentmindedly.

"Of course not," Khadgar huffs, "get your mind out of the gutter." Except he follows up with a secretive smile—one that tells Lothar that he would perhaps not mind dessert here if they can have a short break first. Outside, or in the men's room; anywhere where he can find out what that mouth tastes like on him. He never usually gives people this much ease, and it has been years since his last date anyway. Something about Lothar makes him open up, to test the other man. It makes him daring. "Are you still babysitting your nephew?"

Lothar can't help but grin at that. That smile of Khadgar's tells him exactly what the younger man had in mind when he said that, but if he isn't going to bring it up again, neither will he. He doesn't want to overstep something, to go too fast, afraid he might scare the young man away with it. So patience it is. "No, not tonight." Although this kind of conversation might very well lead to something more. Lothar doesn't mind, really, not one bit. "Tonight I'm free to do as I please." Perhaps he should be a little daring, too? "We could get dessert somewhere else, if you want. I don't think it would taste this good here, anyway." He takes another bite of his salmon, savoring it in his mouth before he speaks again, "Or—I could make you something at my place, if you'd like that. I'm quite the good baker, if I may say so myself." Alright, perhaps this is an exaggeration, but he really wants to know how the younger man reacts to the prospect of coming home with Lothar tonight.

"Well," drawls the younger, "I don't know. I don't know where you live. What if it's really far out of my way and I'll not be able to go home tonight?" They both established that it wasn't a game, except it is now definitely turning into one.

"Let's see, " Lothar grins, "I live near enough for us to take the same bus every morning, so that is a plus. And if you want—" he swallows once, trying to muster the courage he needs to say his next words, "I really wouldn't mind if you stayed the night. But only if you want to, of course."

Khadgar stares. And promptly pushes his half-finished plate forward. "I've had enough spare ribs for tonight." He gulps down what is left of his coke, coughs, and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "Are you gonna finish that? It's probably expensive, so you should. But, you know, I can ask for the check?"

Lothar almost chokes on the bite he just took and stares at the younger man with wide eyes, before a shy smile overtakes his features, "Nah, it's fine. I'm not that hungry anymore, anyway." _At least not for food_ , a voice chimes in, _but you wouldn't mind having him for dessert_ —Lothar shuts it out before the voice compels him to do things, like bend Khadgar over this table and kiss him senseless. The thought makes a wave of arousal surge through him and he rubs his neck in embarrassment. "Sure, ask away. And don't worry about paying, I've got it."

"Please," says Khadgar, "I didn't finish my plate. I can't let you pay for that." He waves a hand for the waiter, who clearly understands what is going on and, concerned about the other guests, wastes no time. And so, still tasting spare rib and coke on his tongue as they get out of the restaurant, Khadgar puts his hands back in his pockets. For a while, they just stand there. It is one thing to think about it, and another to actually do something about it. "You know," he moves his weight to the front of his feet, stands on tiptoe, "I don't know if you are thinking what I'm thinking, but if you wanted to, now would be a really nice moment to kiss me."

Yes, Lothar is thinking exactly what Khadgar is. And so he bends forward and captures the younger man's lips with his own.


	3. Chapter 3

They spend the entirety of the bus ride not paying attention to where they are going. Only a minute before their stop does Khadgar figure, with a distinct lack of focus, that they should probably get up and make it to the doors. Press the button, first, he quickly adds.

They have been hiding in the back of the bus like teenagers. None of the regular commuters they see on a daily basis have been spotted on their ride, which is a blessing in disguise. Khadgar's cheeks are flushed, his hair tousled from he knows not what, and his lips slightly raw from something he definitely knows. "Come on," he tugs on Lothar's sleeve.

Lothar's entire body is brimming with arousal, especially in those places where the younger man has touched or pressed against him. He can't remember the last time he felt this _alive_ , his heart beating in his chest. There is a pinkness to his face that makes him look at least five years younger; the blue of his eyes especially prominent because of it. Yet no one else in the bus gets to see it, as Lothar's attention is entirely on the young man beside him—or more precisely, his mouth. Lothar grins shyly when Khadgar takes the lead and tugs him out of the bus after him, but he doesn't mind, not really. Pointing across the street, he says, "My flat is this way, just two blocks from here." Before the younger man can head over in that direction, he is pulled into another kiss, as Lothar isn't getting enough of those plush lips pressed against his own.

They both stumble in some form of direction, intermittently broken when Khadgar draws Lothar in for a kiss against a lamp post, or in the shade where nobody can see them and where his breathing gets just that bit heavier. He has no clue where Lothar lives, so he relies on the other man to make sure they are still going the right way. Khadgar wants this, and he wants it badly. At some point, his cold hands tuck under Lothar's shirt. They pause only to assure himself that both of them agree—despite how cold Khadgar's fingertips are going to be against the heat of Lothar's skin—and then, with a near-groan, press solidly against the surface.

By some chance or miracle, they end up at the apartment complex. Lothar thinks how weird they must look, almost stumbling over each other to keep their closeness while they go into one direction. Those trails of thought leave his mind completely when Khadgar's cold hands come up under his shirt. His breath hitches from on one hand the cold, on the other the feeling of having someone else touching him. It wakes a hunger in Lothar that he has not felt for a long time, and he is entirely grateful when they reach his home.

The light above the door flickers. It always does. Lothar knows the building well enough not to need it as he fumbles with his keys. Khadgar's hands are still on his body, making it almost impossible to think straight. Finally the door clicks open, and he stumbles to the elevator, the younger man hot on his heels.

This time, in the bleak, unforgiving white light and the mirror that gives them no privacy, Khadgar pulls apart to look at him. His weight leans against one side of the elevator, his eyes wide and only appearing anything but the dark that they are because of the unnatural light.

He doesn't pay attention to anything but Lothar. His stance is inviting, anticipatory; he looks like an animal who has found his prey. Except Khadgar is hardly a hunter, and his nervousness shines through when he smiles. As does his eagerness. "Please tell me you don't live on the top floor. I will shut this elevator down if you live on the top floor." Which is, of course, an idle threat; Khadgar does not look forward to any emergency units or security footage that appoints them the culprits of an accidental elevator distress call. But that doesn't mean he doesn't want to.

Lothar draws in for another quick peck on the lips, a silent promise that everything will be alright, even if he is nervous as hell himself. "Don't worry." How long has it been since anyone else has wanted him like the young man in front of him wants him now? Thus he smiles gently, trying to make sure that Khadgar is okay with this. "I live on the fifth floor."

They are at the third as he says it. Khadgar nods. He absently licks his lips, feels the beard rash and smiles to himself. Well, he nearly forgot about that bit, there. He doesn't know why he doesn't just move forward and kiss Lothar right there, as they both seem to want the same thing. Khadgar's constraint is admirable, but it is wholly unnecessary.

In front of Lothar's door, he impatiently shifts his weight back and forth, fingers itching to reach out.

When the door shuts behind them at last, Khadgar gives. Hands pull the other close, tug their way back under Lothar's shirt. The kiss is slow to follow, preceded as it is by outstretching seconds in close proximity where Khadgar's priorities have temporarily shifted to getting his hands where he wants then. When they meet again, it is soft, demanding, and so many things that he can't put into words.

Khadgar's rational side says to take it slow and savor the moment. But really, they couldn't even make it through one date unscathed.

And Lothar feels as if he's walking on clouds, especially when Khadgar's hands press against his heated skin again. The kisses alone are enough to turn him on, but the featherlight touches against his stomach, especially the still sensitive scar that stretches out along his left side, send his blood flowing south. He should feel ashamed of getting so aroused from such little a touch, but Lothar doesn't care right now; Khadgar's scent and taste are far too intoxication to do anything but give in to the pleasure that rattles him at every contact.

With a little effort, he manages to maneuver himself and the younger man in his arms towards the living room, and as they arrive there, he starts drawing him towards his couch. Finally reaching it, Lothar falls back onto it, the plush cushions feathering his fall, while he drags Khadgar on top of him. The kiss grows hotter and hotter by the second; Lothar becomes perhaps even a little bold, as he now slips his hands beneath the younger man's shirt to caress the skin hidden beneath.

It is not a big couch, Khadgar finds. It makes him have to be inventive as he wriggles into a comfortable position on top, his knees on both sides of the other man's hips. It is a good thing that he's got almost nowhere to go, really, because a callused hand brushing his side nearly causes him to lose his balance, a whimper slipping past his lips. Not even a day earlier, this seemed utopian. And so the kiss that follows is anything but innocent. Khadgar takes what he can get, with a breathless smile on his lips and fingertips that creep up until they are almost—

The front door being opened sends him up and away at once.

Lothar sits up, despite the moan that was about to spill from his tongue only seconds earlier. He carefully lets his hands stroke over his own stomach, the places where Khadgar touched him still tingling, and tries very hard to ignore his half hard member in his pants as he turns around to face whoever interrupted his first making out in months. Oh.

Callan. Wonderful. Lothar wants to crawl into a hole in the floor and hide. Clearing his throat, he hopes that nothing of his arousal shows on his face. "Hey, Callan." He tries to grin towards his son in good humor and fails miserably, "You're home early."

"Yeah," Callan takes off his shoes, too occupied with his coat and his bag to notice anything out of the ordinary. "Stupid Michael decided not to show up for the session, so we finished early."

Lothar bites the inside of his cheek so as not to curse this Michael guy in every language that he knows, "That's shit."

It takes effort for Khadgar to sit prim and proper on the couch, trying to pass off his visit as one of a respectable nature. He looks between Lothar and the boy more than once, then quickly brushes hands through his hair before he whispers, "Who is he?" Though, he doesn't think he needs an answer. Obviously this guy has a key.

Callan seems to notice the guest now, because he flicks on the light in the room and blinks at the man sitting next to his father. Who has, his brain supplies, been there in the near-dark. Somehow it no longer makes sense for the lights to be off because his dad decided to take a quick nap. "Uh," he looks at Khadgar, purses his lips, and heads to him with a hand outstretched, all awkwardness. "Hi. I'm Callan. Lothar's son."

Khadgar looks at Lothar like a cornered animal, but he shakes his hand. "Hi. Khadgar. It's nice to meet you. I uh…"

The awkwardness of it all, which Lothar had been able to shake off as the evening progressed, now comes back full force. He doesn't know how he should explain this to his son. Callan's father likes a man who is only a few years older than Callan himself; and Lothar would have slept with that man, had they not been interrupted. He can already see the expression of disgust on Callan's face when he tells him that, followed by the "Urgh, Dad, really?"

Feeling vulnerable, and catching Khadgar's nervousness, which Lothar can see as clear as day, doesn't make it better. Fuck, perhaps he really isn't quite as alright with Khadgar being this young. What is his family going to think when he presents them Khadgar on a silver platter? Are they going to just accept the young man, who could very well be Lothar's son when it comes to age? And it isn't just that. Khadgar is still young; he still has his entire life ahead of him. So what does he want with someone as old as Lothar?

His entire being fills with sadness. He really likes the younger man, but this will lead to nothing eventually. Somewhere down the road, Khadgar is going to leave him for another man. And who could blame him, really, when Lothar is just a broken heap of human flesh, scarred from his time in the military and many other things?

Lothar has to resist hitting himself for his stupidity. He realizes that Khadgar is trying to get his help in coming up with a plausible excuse as to why he is here. The older man sighs. "He brought me something that I left on the bus."

"Yeah!" Khadgar takes the first hook he can. "I found his phone. So I called his work," he turns to Lothar and gratefully adds, "I still feel terrible about going through your phone. It's, well, I could have given it to the driver, but I don't know, it didn't feel like the right thing to do." He glosses over the fact that they both get out at the same stop; Callan does not know that, nor does he need to know it for the time being. "But actually, you came at the right time. I have to really get going. It's just, we started talking about our jobs, and you know how that goes." He hopes the chuckle that follows doesn't sound as nervous as it is.

So he hops up, tries not to straighten his shirt while Callan is watching, and offers a hand to Lothar. "It was, uh, it was nice meeting you." A glint of mischief remains in Khadgar's eyes; he is going to message Lothar as soon as he makes it out of the apartment in one piece. But Lothar can distinguish disappointment in there, too.

"Wait," Callan tries. He doesn't know what else to say either.

Hoping that his own disappointment as well as his divided feelings are not showing on his face, Lothar takes Khadgar's hand and shakes it as if he were thankful—which he totally is, mind you, he just imagined something different tonight, perhaps him and Khadgar kissing until they were both needy, before—

To get his mind away from such thoughts, he concentrates on the here and now. He smiles, if a little awkward. "I don't mind. Thank you for bringing it back. Have a safe trip home." Lothar lets the younger man's hand go, and with it goes his chance of being together with him, of having _something_ with him. Of not being alone anymore. Khadgar most likely doesn't think it now, but Lothar will make sure that the younger man understands. _This_ is for the best. He is too old a person for Khadgar, and even though it makes his heart hurt, he knows it is better when he stays alone and Khadgar can find someone better to be happy with.

If his odd expression makes something unpleasant stir in Khadgar—something akin to dread—then Khadgar doesn't show it. He smiles politely and heads for the door, his hands tucked away, and closes it behind him well before either of them can say anything more.

But outside the building, he crumbles. His body still waits for more and is a mess, his hands shaking as he opens the elevator door and starts typing a message. Nothing comes out. He tries to cram what he wants to say into too few words, and he also doesn't want to run the risk of having Lothar's phone blink into action so soon, lest Lothar's son notices—gods, he's almost Khadgar's age, and isn't that strange? So Khadgar bites his nail and eventually sends Lothar his address. It isn't far. _In case you feel like going for a midnight walk_ , he adds.

Lothar does not look on his phone that night. He is faced with having to shake Callan off, since saying, "I'm gonna go to bed early tonight," makes his son go into mother hen mode, trying to get him to talk about what is wrong. But nothing is wrong. Lothar has just made the sensible decision to spare Khadgar from being with an old man, and now he just needs him to see it. There is no future for the two of them.

So deeply ingrained is this mindset by now that there isn't a single doubt; Khadgar would be better off without him. And only the small, selfish part of himself that tries to argue for wanting something, wanting someone for himself for once. That is the part that doesn't care if others are a better match. Lothar shuts it down swiftly. He stares up at the ceiling from his bed. In his head, his unworthiness for someone as nice and caring as Khadgar is slowly driving him mad with hurt and the desire to escape it all. Only after hours does he finally find sleep, Khadgar's message to him gone unnoticed.

All throughout that night, in another room in another home, Khadgar can't find his sleep.

He keeps looking at his phone, waiting for his message to be marked as read, and has a dwindling hope that Lothar has read it from his pull-down menu, never marking the message, but is already on his way. As the time moves past two in the morning, he starts thinking that perhaps Lothar is finding it hard to deal with his son. Callan seems a nice enough guy though, and not someone to keep his father up that late when he's got work in the morning. Does he still live there? Or was tonight's visit meant to be a surprise?

So at two thirty, he checks that off his list of possibilities and merely assumes that Lothar must have fallen asleep. Which, well, is rather disappointing.

* * *

Come morning, Khadgar is ill-rested. He wants to message something, but he doesn't know what to send. Stuffing his breakfast down as fast as he can, he makes it to the bus stop early. With this much unresolved tension, he doesn't think it is going to slip by anyone's attention, but he really wants to see Lothar.

Having slept like shit, Lothar wakes up with a headache. He manages to drag himself out of his bed and into the shower, but otherwise he is not as awake as he would like. Or rather, he feels as if it is dulled by the emotional pain that he constantly inflicts on himself, the thoughts rolling around in his head never letting him go. He even has half a mind to get to work late by skipping his usual bus—but he knows that he probably would kick himself even more for being a coward, so he skips breakfast, gets into his clothes and then walks to the bus stop. On his way down, he sees the message Khadgar wrote just after he left, and guilt for not answering drops within his stomach like lead.

His phone slides back into his pocket. He sighs deeply and considers everything he is going to say to Khadgar once he sees him. It is just his luck that the younger man is already at their respective bus stop. Evidently waiting for him.

Lothar walks up to him, hands in his pockets. He wishes he could hide somewhere, but he knows he has to face the music. "Hey, Khadgar," he therefore addresses the younger man, "I only saw your message this morning." He finds it difficult to talk and clears his throat several times, looking anywhere but Khadgar. "I have to talk to you about something—important."

Coming nearer, he draws close to Khadgar so that the other people at the stop can't hear him, "I-- I don't think this thing between us is going to work."

At first, Khadgar nearly laughs. His nerves are so high up that he can almost taste them, bitter and impossible, but he expected that to end at the first syllable. Which was not supposed to be _this_. "What do you mean, it isn't—" He swallows his words. "You're joking, right?"

"No, I'm not," Lothar sighs, he tries to channel the brash asshole persona that he usually wears, but it doesn't come out with Khadgar. Not anymore, at least. "Listen-- I thought things over after you left last night. We're both too—different to be together." _I don't deserve someone like you._ "We could try to stay friends, but—I think any romantic relationship between us would end in flames." _I am old, and you're so young_. Lothar clears his throat and drags his hand over his face before he continues. "So—I just wanted to say that I'm sorry, but this isn't going to work out." _Even though I want it to work. But it can't. I can't get hurt again._

Khadgar stares at him. He has been pining for this man for almost a year, and he is going to have to do with ‘It isn't going to work?' "At least tell me you don't like me," he purses through his lips. "Don't give me any of that shit like it isn't going to work out, when I'm more than willing to at least give it a try." He feels almost offended.

The older man's eyes widen. Hasn't Khadgar felt how much Lothar likes him, when they were practically frotting against each other on the couch? His heart bleeds when he thinks about it, but it is also his opportunity. If he needs to ensure Khadgar's happiness without him by lying to his face, then Lothar will do it. "Alright, you got me," he says. "That's it. I was too polite to say it before, but—look, I gave it an honest try, but there was no spark. I don't want you like that." He tries to maintain a stoic mask not to let it show how much saying these words hurt him. And if they hurt him, they're going to be devastating for the younger man. Lothar wants to run, but he owns it to Khadgar to take the fallout, whatever it may be.

Khadgar stares at the man for a long time, before his lip quivers and his emotions come rushing out. He is hot and cold at the same time, feeling like the world is shifting beneath his feet. The worst is that he knows Lothar is lying. "…Fuck you," he whispers—hisses—and turns around.

Nobody is going to see him cry—if Lothar has not already seen the signs, which he surely has—when he shoves his hands deeper in his pockets and walks away. He can't be here right now, with the judging faces of every passenger looking at him. Already Khadgar feels them staring at his back. Work will manage without him for a day. He hasn't called in sick in five months; he is entitled one day.

His retreat is a victory, but it tastes bitter like acid to Lothar. It is better this way; he strongly believes so, as he blinks his own tears away harshly and ignores the accusing glances from the passengers who overheard their short and wretched talk. He finds his usual spot in the back of the bus and leans his head against the window, staring into nothingness. Somehow, it feels as if someone dragged him through a wasteland full of shards of glass, and his entire body feels raw, exhausted. He wants to cry so badly that he bites his lip bloody, and even the children at his work place can't seem to lift his spirits.

This is for the best. This. is. for. the. best

Nobody believes that. Least of all Khadgar, who stares at the one message he sent Lothar ever, wondering if maybe he was too forward, or if maybe they should have gone slower. Maybe Callan scared Lothar off. Maybe, maybe Khadgar has been his normal overeager self and pushed him away without realizing it. He doesn't know what it is, but he continues to go over the options until he is really done with it. He grabs his phone, chooses his words angrily. Each iteration is pure vitriol.

In the end, he doesn't send anything. If Lothar does not want him, then Khadgar has no right to force him.

The next bus ride they share, he ignores him. If there is a chance of eye contact, Khadgar pulls up his walls, and his face contorts into a shutdown version that glares down everyone who so much as looks at him. His headphones blare angry music a little too loudly. Nobody comments.


	4. Chapter 4

Several weeks pass; weeks in which Lothar feels like shit.

Not only does his own conscience tell him that he fucked up with Khadgar big time—that he was stupid to let his emotions be ruled by his self-doubt—but he also gains the displeasure of the regulars on the bus. They look at him like he is a criminal, giving him a wide berth if they can, and on those occasions when the bus is full, they make sure that he and Khadgar don't get to sit together. Lothar would almost be grateful for their loyalty to the younger man, if it didn't also keep him from trying to make amends for what he has done.

It doesn't help that Khadgar has started to appear in his dreams. All that he will never have is now rubbed into his face even at night. The younger man must hate him after what Lothar has done to him, and if not, he can't be anything else than a fucking saint. Lothar would hate himself, that's for sure. And he does; his appetite is gone, the only time he eats being to avoid questions when he shares lunch with the children at work. Otherwise, he almost always pushes his dinner around on the plate.

One day, Taria has had enough. She initially invited her brother over to cheer him up, but when nothing seems to help, she finally explodes and demands Lothar to talk already about what makes him so sad. He complies only after she threatens him. When he finishes, he is crying in her arms as she strokes his hair, calling himself an _idiot_ and _stupid_ over and over again.

"Talk to him," she says. "Make things right." She all but tells him to try and get him back. But Lothar is not sure whether that is possible. He promises her, though, and the next time he is on the bus, he will at least try to apologize for the way he told Khadgar off.

He hopes it isn't too late.

Khadgar is there, really, because he is there every day. It is his ride to work. He has his nose in a book, his music back to somewhat respectable levels, and he's even bobbing along to the song—it is easier to pretend that Lothar does not exist than to keep making himself angry about it, after all. So when someone stands in front of his seat, he looks up with one eye, ready to move aside and give the passenger space, until he catches sight of who it is. "Move along," he says flatly.

The regulars try to move Lothar away from Khadgar, but for once in his damn life Lothar stays persistent. "Khadgar," he says quietly, "I—"

He is interrupted then the old lady shoves him away from the younger man and takes the seat next to him for herself, glaring at Lothar all the while. "You aren't good enough for my granddaughter anymore," she says with just as much acid in her voice that Lothar flinches. His shoulders sink, and he quietly shuffles off to his regular seat while the old lady pats Khadgar's knee.

Khadgar smiles at her with gratitude. He didn't think he'd ever be happy with her presence. Things have a way of surprising him, he muses. It is thanks to her that he can continue his commute in peace, and it's a good thing too, because he has to defend his thesis in a few days' time. Khadgar doesn't feel ready at all. Half of the conclusion still needs to be written. Before tonight. He can't deal with any distractions right now. "Thanks," he whispers.

Though the longer he sits there, the more awful he feels. Lothar wanted to talk. It is likely that there was going to be some bullshit story about wanting them to be friends, but the thing is that Khadgar doesn't know. And there are many things he still wants Lothar to say.

It is pride that keeps him from doing anything throughout the bus ride. When they get off, Khadgar pointedly ignores Lothar and walks to work at a faster pace than normal until their ways split. The hours pass slowly and tortuously, until at four o'clock he can't take it anymore. One single-syllable word message is sent into the network. _Talk_.

It's the end of his work day for the older man when he gets the message. The entire day, he has been distracted. More than one of the kids has asked him what was wrong, but he had just smiled and stopped being sad as not to make the little children nervous. Now, though, when his shift is over, he wants to kick himself in the groin for fucking up this relationship—this small seed that has never had chance to bloom into something romantic—so thoroughly. He knows that he deserves Khadgar's silence, but one part of him really wants to go to the younger man, sink on his knees before him and apologize over and over again.

So when the message comes, hope blooms inside his stomach, a feeling he hasn't had in weeks. But how to do this? How should he talk to the other man? _I'm sorry_ , he types, before he erases it again, as it sounds too shallow and completely unreal. He has to use different words to make this work again, thus he replaces it with, _I was a coward. I fucked up big time, and I can understand it if you will never forgive me. But please, let me at least explain to you why. I owe you that much. Meet me for coffee, please? Lothar_.

Khadgar stares at the words for five minutes straight. He knows how to respond, because he has exhausted every opportunity in his mind that afternoon, but the fact that Lothar is talking to him still does things to his chemistry. He is shaking, and he knows damn well that it isn't because he is cold, or angry. _Why would I have coffee with someone who doesn't like me?_ he flings the lie that started it all back over the fence for Lothar to deal with. The rest of Lothar's message might be a bit dramatic, he sniffles in his corner of the archives where nobody will disturb him until the end of his working day. Still, it makes him feel better.

When Lothar finds that Khadgar has written back, he bumps his head against the wall in front of him, hard. One of the kids, the young girl who was being abused by her parents and is now living with her grandmother, comes to him. She takes his big hand into her small one. "Are you alright, An?" she asks him.

He shakes his head, looking at the mobile phone in his hand with dread filling his stomach. How should he do this? Then he has an idea. "Say, Emily," he asks and kneels down next to the small girl, "How did your grandma get your parents to come to you after she took you in?"

Emily grins, "She blackmailed them with her cookies." Her gaze is a kindness, the pure concern of a child, "Do you need to get someone to talk to you?"

Lothar nods, sighing, "Yes, I do. But you just helped me big time. Thanks Emily." And he smiles at her, which makes her smile in return, before she runs off to her friends again. Meanwhile, Lothar types the message and takes a deep breath before he sends it, _Because I'm desperate enough to buy you anything you want off that menu if you let me talk to you. Please, just give me a chance. Lothar._

But Khadgar drops his phone in his lap with a groan. It's the wrong answer, the wrong answer by far.

He doesn't respond.

What he does do, strictly confined in the safety of the archives, is bite his lip until it bleeds, then look at the message again, suppressing the urge to smack the device against something that will make it break. He doesn't have the money for that kind of careless behavior.

On the other side, Lothar tenses up when the reply leaves him waiting. He can only imagine that he probably fucked up even more, and wants to bang his head against the wall for as long as it takes until he bleeds. But he reins himself in as not to upset the kids, and soon enough, the parents come and take them home.

When he is again alone in the school, putting away everything for the day, he feels empty and depressed. He doesn't know if he should write another text, trying to explain his feelings to Khadgar; he doesn't know how to handle it. Putting his hand over his eyes, he tries desperately to blink back the tears, and only manages it after several minutes. Finally he decides to give it one last try, one last hope, and then he will let it go, saving it as a situation he fucked up so badly that he might very well jump in front of a train. Taking a deep sigh, he types with shaking hands. _I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry that I hurt you like that. I like you so much, too much perhaps? I don't know. I just want to explain it to you, and after that I will be out of your life forever._

Naturally, Khadgar doesn't plan to be on his regular ride home today. He drags out his walk to the bus stop so that he may be late without the hassle of staying at work when that didn't work out so well last time. Curiously, it is Lothar's text that gives him enough of a delay to see the bus drive away without him. It is an even better something when Lothar finally gives him the one thing he needed to hear. And it isn't the sorries, the groveling or anything like that. Lothar likes him. Simple as that. Khadgar feels like he's about to cry.

_You have my address_ , he sends shakily. _No sooner than eight o'clock, and you're not coming in, just so you know. I'm not going to be faced with not being able to kick you out. Doorway or a walk, your choice._ He regrets sending it as soon as he does; now there is no more escaping this.

He also didn't like that part of Lothar's message about being out of his life one bit.

Looking at his phone as he exits the school building, Lothar almost sinks to the floor, his legs suddenly shaking with relief so badly that he has to fight to stay up. With quivering hands, he types a reply, _Thank you_ , and breathes in deeply before he walks towards the bus stop. He sees Khadgar there, and knows that the younger man doesn't want to see him now, so he waits until Khadgar is gone before he approaches the stop. Sitting down, he waits.

* * *

Later that night, Lothar is a nervous wreck. He has actually written down everything that he is going to say to the younger man to apologize, to make him understand why he did what he did, but he still can't help but be nervous. He even asked Taria how to go about this, and she just answered with, "Just _fucking_ tell him the truth, dammit." At eight, he stands before Khadgar's door awkward and nervous as fuck, and rings the bell.

As his arrival is expected, Khadgar opens the door a bit too fast for any ordinary house call. He is a mess, which is stupid, because they only went out half of once, made out on a couch and then cut that short. Even a crush shouldn't be able to make him feel like this. One look at Lothar however crashes Khadgar's conviction. "Hi," he mutters awkwardly.

"Er—hi." It is as if a cat got his tongue, and the older man fumbles with himself, putting his hands into his pockets to do _something_. "Would you—would you go for a walk with me?" He licks his lips. Khadgar looks so good, but also very much like a mess. Did his words really have such an impact on the younger man?

"…Yeah, sure." Already Khadgar is wondering if he should just let him in. His neighbors are nosy bastards and the weather isn't too nice. Also, he wants to kiss the man badly. It is his stung pride that makes him grab his coat and his keys and pull the door shut behind him.

In the elevator, he breathes out. "So…"

Lothar sighs in relief when Khadgar comes with him. He searches for a beginning. None comes to him until they are outside, "Alright…where to start?" He sighs deeply, "Khadgar, I owe you a big, big apology. I just, I just thought…I don't know, I like you so much. So damn much. And then my damn mind started working against me. I imagined how it would be like if we were together, what the people would say, what a young man like you," he swallows, "was doing with such an old man like me. I mean, I'm old enough to be your father, and I just—I thought about how you would realize this one day too, and then leave me again. I couldn't…I couldn't bear that—" He tries desperately to blink back his tears as he walks. Snow has started drifting down around them, and he looks to the sky, "I'm a fucking coward and I would understand it if you would never want anything to do with me."

"Don't make my choices for me," says the younger. The more he hears, the more it bothers him what Lothar is saying. They have been assumptions, all of them. Had he asked, Khadgar would have gladly told him that it matters very little to him whether Lothar could be his dad's age. Khadgar doesn't have much to compare against anyway. He would have also made it clear that if he likes someone well enough to see him exclusively—whatever that stupid term means, other than an official statement that they're together—he doesn't go looking for ‘upgrades'. To think it is a little offensive. "Couldn't you have asked? Is this because of your son?"

"I should have asked. That's why I need to apologize to you." Lothar sighs. He really fucked up. "I'm sorry that I took that choice out of your hands, and I'm sorry that I was so mean to you. I didn't—" he swallows, "I didn't mean any of that, I was scared to be hurt again when you would finally realize that I am not worthy to be with you and leave me, so I tried to end it before it even began." He shivers, not from the cold. "Callan was sort of…the trigger, yes, but my words were entirely mine. And you have no idea how I could kick myself for them."

"It would make me a really shitty person if I decided halfway through that you ‘weren't worthy'," Khadgar points out. He pushes his hands in his pockets, his feet forward, and slows down to let Lothar catch up. "You kinda hurt me when you decided this wasn't going to work just there. I mean, I like you, okay? And I really want to give you a second chance, because I'm stupid and I'm just going to tell you that I do. No self-preservation," he laughs sadly. "But I can't work with this. I can't work with you jumping to conclusions and shutting me out."

"I know," Lothar breathes out. He wants to bang his head against a flat surface somewhere. "If anyone is stupid here, it is me. I assured you that I was okay with your age, and then had a mental breakdown over it, which hurt you in the process. Partly because you're so young that you could be my son and partly because I thought that—if we were together, you would soon realize what a failure I am and leave me." He draws a hand through his hair, gripping it harshly, "I'm so fucked up and I have no idea what I'm doing half of the time. But I really like you, Khadgar. I like you so much that I thought I didn't deserve you, because you're far too good for me." He slaps himself on both cheeks, "I'm rambling, I'm sorry. I just want you to know I would do anything I can to make it better between us again and to…start over, if you'll have me."

Khadgar breathes in deeply next to him. Warning bells are going off about the desperation in which this usually stoic-to-sarcastic man speaks. "How fucked up?" he asks. "Because some levels of fucked up I can work with. Others, not so much. Talk to me?" He is afraid that Lothar will bring up something irreconcilable, something like an obsession or something that is going to end up hurting Khadgar in the long run. But it is better to know it now, he figures. So far, this isn't the romantic thing he has dreamed it would be at all.

Lothar takes a very deep breath, looking for the right words. His hands in his pockets ball into fists, "My…my wife died giving birth to our son. I loved her so much that I couldn't-- it broke me in some ways. And then I met this guy who was all understanding. He helped me with Callan for some time and I-- god I fell in love with him. I've never told anyone about him, though, and he took that the hard way. When we broke up he—he said some things that hurt me really badly. That I was a coward at heart. That God took Cally away from me because of it. The worst thing was that I believed him. I believed him so much that I drank to forget it all and almost killed my son in the process. If my sister hadn't helped me, I probably would have lost him too." Lothar looks away from Khadgar into the night, "Now you know the truth. I'm an idiot and a coward, and I'm scared to fall in love because I don't want to get hurt again."

"You nearly killed your son…" Khadgar repeats slowly. That detail troubles him. "Do you still drink?"

"Sometimes," Lothar says honestly. "But not as much as back then. I joined the marines. They don't allow overconsumption. Kinda stuck with me."

"And your son?" Callan didn't strike him as someone who hated his father; maybe Lothar's words are harsher than the truth. Still, Khadgar wants to know.

"We're not as close as we could be but I care about him. And he about me. At least I think he does." Lothar isn't so sure in that department. "He actually kicked my ass last night and told me to get my shit together."

A soft, careful smile appears on the younger man's lips. The man has a history, but it doesn't sound like something Khadgar would be unable to deal with. "Alright. Look, there's a lot more I want to know about you before this," he gestures between them, "has even a chance at succeeding. So if you're okay with being friends for a while…"

"Of course." If he sounds desperate, Lothar doesn't care. He is just glad that Khadgar seems willing to grant him another chance, "Thank you."

Khadgar shrugs a little awkwardly. He nearly said _friends with benefits_ , and wouldn't that have led to ill-conceived situations? "It's fine," he mumbles. "Uh." He doesn't know what to do now. What does one do with new friends? "How about food?"

Lothar swallows awkwardly, "Sure. I haven't eaten properly in days." He looks at Khadgar then, seriously, adds, "If there is anything else you want to know about me, ask away."

Khadgar falls into step with him again. "I don't know?"

He doesn't, really. There are many things to ask, half of them not exactly stuff you would freely ask someone you're still getting to know. "There's this, uh, cafeteria on the corner of my street?" he suggests. "Unless you have something else? I've sort of eaten there four out of last five days."

"No, this sounds good." Lothar suddenly realizes how much he craves some food, "As long as they serve something warm at this hour, I'll be fine." He attempts to grin, but it is more an awkward grimace, the fear of fucking up again like lead in his stomach. The snow is not letting down either, covering the ground before him with a sheet of white. Lothar hears it crunch beneath his boots.

"You'll want something from their warm menu," Khadgar points out. "Their salad is downright nasty. Just a warning; don't take it." He can tell that Lothar is locking up from the way that he never really smiles. If this continues, Khadgar is never going to figure out who he is. So he picks the one subject he knows can get Lothar out of this self-imposed rigidity. "How are the kids doing at work?"

The question has the wanted effect. The tension drains out of Lothar's shoulders. "The children are fine," he says, "I finally got to talk to Emily. Do you remember the kid I thought was suffering from abuse? I was right, sadly. But I managed to talk to her, and made her tell her grandmother. Ever since then, she is living with her as the court declared. Good day, that." Lothar grins a little easier, "Otherwise, the kids are really coming along."

Khadgar nods. "Good. You should take them outside tomorrow." He kicks at the snow. "If this snow keeps up, you have to have a snowball fight tomorrow, in memory of all the people tucked away in the archives during the day. But I am really happy that she is doing better. You handled that well." None of his occasional sarcasm; Khadgar is glad that Lothar noticed and took action. When it comes to kids, he is a really good guy. "Oh, we're here," he says at the greasy smell of fried food. His stomach almost churns. It's all sorts of ridiculous that this is cheaper than making something himself.

"That's a really good idea. The kids would be delighted," Lothar pulls his hands out of his pockets and lets them rest at his sides while his nose takes in the smell of the small joint. His stomach growls loudly, and soon enough they're inside. Lothar shakes himself and stamps his feet onto the ground simultaneously to get rid of the snow stuck on his shoulders and on his feet, before he takes a look around. Not many people are here, thank goodness, and it looks somehow both cozy and a little run down. "My sister would like this place."

"Yeah? How so?" Khadgar hesitates to go up to the counter. So maybe just having a burger isn't too bad. He can't see another fry right now, but the burgers are decent enough. "What are you getting?" he asks. Look at them, talking about work and the bloody cafeteria menu while both are pretending to be happy with the conversation. Khadgar is not. Lothar looks stupidly good. He might look better if not a nervous wreck, but it is still good enough to get Khadgar's insides in a twist.

"She loves fast food," Lothar grins when he thinks of it. "Llane is always demanding that the children eat healthy, so Taria cooks fresh. But once in a while she takes them out to one of these places where they then indulge in the decadence of it all." Running a hand through his snow-damp hair, Lothar takes a look at the menu above the counter, "I think I'm going to go for a burger with fries. You?" Sneaking a glance at Khadgar, his heart hurts when he once again is confronted with how much he has missed the younger man during those awful weeks. He straightens his shoulders. Time to make the best of this second chance.

Khadgar orders himself a burger, which is the greasiest thing he can find; he knows full well that it is all bad for his health, but the choice is bacon or chicken and that has never been a fair one to begin with. He waits for Lothar, his hands behind his back. "So hey," he starts. "I actually can't stay very long. I tried to get the last part of my thesis done before eight, but I haven't been able to finish it yet. It's due before midnight." He sheepishly smiles. With everything that is going on, trust him to forget the only thing that should really matter. "It's the last few paragraphs. Just coming up with a good conclusion, that's all. But I can't stay longer than half an hour. Unless you happen to be a master thesis writer," he adds half jokingly.

"Well—no." Lothar's grin comes a little easier to him now, "But, er—tell me about it? Perhaps I can give you some clues as to what you want to conclude with? Looking at it from another perspective?" He is at a loss here, having known nothing but the marines and how to take care of children. He hasn't even mastered in anything like psychology or any other background one usually needs in his line of work, "Only if you want, of course."

And so Khadgar finds himself faced with having to explain the intricacies of his thesis—an exploration of ethics in the line of forensic investigation—to someone who knows nothing. Over a hamburger and, later, a large coke, he talks about the purpose of his thesis and how he means to accomplish it—how he _hopes_ he has accomplished that, as it is all written already—and on what note he wants it to end.

It isn't Lothar rather than it is Khadgar explaining it in common English himself that ends up being his grace. "Hold on!" he says, and holds one hand up while fishing for his phone. Lothar is given minutes of his lacking attention as Khadgar's fingers move furiously on the screen, writing full sentences like his life depends on it. Only eight minutes later on the clock does he pull away and push the device towards Lothar. "There. Tell me if that makes sense." If he has written it right, it should be possible to read the conclusion without the rest of it.

While Khadgar explained his thesis, Lothar listened patiently, sometimes interrupting the younger man when he had questions, but otherwise he let him talk. While he eats his fries, his gaze is fixated on Khadgar's mouth, especially on his expression that is alive with passion. For some reason deep inside of him, Lothar wants Khadgar to have this very same expression when talking about him, and warmth spreads in his stomach. So when Khadgar has his breakthrough and types away on his phone, Lothar finishes his burger as well as his coke and goes back to watching the younger man until he is asked of his opinion.

He bends down to read the few lines Khadgar has written, and marvels at how the younger man was able to come up with this at the spot. Lothar nods, grinning. "Makes complete sense. It's easy enough to understand for a complete dunderhead like I am, so it is really good. I like your writing style by the way. It's very smooth."

Khadgar snorts and nearly chokes on his coke in the process. "Please," he waves it away. "It's good enough, that's what. Thanks. I thought I was going to take an hour or more to wrap that up." He looks genuinely grateful, as if there has never been any trouble between them. "I will still need to read it all in one go, just to be sure, but—" He pauses. In front of him sits a man who has no clue about his work. None. And it is almost perfect. "—are you free tonight? For an hour, at least? Because if you are, and you don't mind, I could really use your input on this."

Lothar's mouth goes dry. He looks at Khadgar to see if the younger man means it. Nervousness tries to bloom in his chest, but he knows that this is his chance to perhaps really make things right between the two, so he tells it to go and fuck itself somewhere before he nods. "I'm free the entire night." Okay, perhaps he shouldn't be so bold. "Er—I mean I'm free tonight, yeah," he tries really lamely to take the brashness out of his statement and fails miserably. If he could, he would facepalm himself. Wonderful Lothar, really smooth talking there.

Khadgar considers him with curiosity. He sees the nervousness, he does—it is still controlling everything Lothar does, and Khadgar wishes that it wouldn't—but he accepts. "The deadline is midnight. You'll be home at a respectable hour, I promise." He knows he is horribly weak, but he is just waiting for that moment, that instant when Lothar takes away his doubts about this. "My place?" he asks. "Mobile takes so long, so working on my laptop saves time."

Yes, Khadgar's place is good. No one to interrupt them if they come close again. Wait, no, that is most likely not going to happen, Lothar is sure of it. After all, Khadgar only agreed to be friends for a while. So everything should be fine, right? Except it isn't. Lothar suddenly realizes that he wants to continue where the two of them left off so many weeks ago, that he wants to see where this could go if there is no son to suddenly come home and put an end to this, albeit indirectly. He rubs his hands on his jeans that suddenly are sweaty, but he manages a smile towards Khadgar, "Sure. Anyplace you are more comfortable."

"Well," Khadgar asks back, "I'm cool wherever, if there's a laptop. Where would you be more comfortable?"

"Wherever you are," Lothar answers before he can stop himself, "Er—I mean—" He interrupts himself before he can put his foot into his mouth once again. Then he sighs. Perhaps it would be easier to just tell the truth. "I felt like absolute shit the last few weeks because of my guilt. So wherever you are is fine with me, as long as we can…you know, get to know each other better…and stuff." His voice goes quieter while a blush tinges his cheeks, the thought of what ‘stuff' could mean making his insides go warm all over.

Khadgar parts his lips. His eyes are on Lothar, and even if they don't quite stare, he has trouble pulling away from him at the same time. Because there is no way he can't hear the invitation. Lothar might not have meant it that way; yet Khadgar's thoughts are on anything but his thesis right now. Which isn't good. "Help me out," he asks with maybe a bit of a loaded voice. "You'll get to know a lot about me through my thesis, I'm sure. And please," he mumbles in addendum, "stop feeling so damn guilty. I knew you were lying when you said it, and I think you've been dealt more than enough evil eyes for that by now."

"Easier said than done." Lothar runs a hand over his face, "But I'm working on it." He tries a grin and finds that it comes easier to him now. Perhaps Khadgar really has forgiven him? He breathes a little lighter and looks to the window, before a deadpan expression replaces any other movement on his face, "I think we should get going before it becomes impossible." He nods towards the window where it has started to snow heavily, thick white flakes falling to the ground in quick succession.

"Good," nods Khadgar belatedly. He tries an uplifting smile. "I do want to get to know you, you know." But before either of them can look into that, his attention is turned to the weather conditions. The snow has become heavier; it doesn't look like a short affair either. "Fuck," mutters Khadgar. He grabs his coke, drains the last of it, and nods at Lothar. "Make a run for it?"

Which is how they end up back at Khadgar's place wet and cold, dragging in the last snow from under their shoes. Khadgar looks him over. "So," he winces, "it would be terrible if I'd ask you to help me while you're busy catching a cold."

Lothar shakes himself off, trying to get rid of the worst of the snow on his clothes. For some reason, the sprint through the white stuff has done wonders to his mood, and he grins at Khadgar. "If I weren't so cold right now, I'd say this is a not so subtle try to get me naked." He doesn't know why, but it feels good to tease the younger man. "Don't worry. I don't want to ruin your apartment by being soaking wet." He bends down without much thought and unties his shoes, then takes them off his feet. "Fuck, my socks are through." With delicate fingers he slips out of them, and soon enough his cold feet stand on Khadgar's floor while he takes off his jacket. "Where can I put the things to dry?"

He is pointed to the central heater, which isn't usually on to save money but which is going to do its job tonight. Khadgar disappears to return with house slippers around his feet and new clothes on. He hesitates before he throws a lump of fabric Lothar's direction. "The biggest shirt I've got," he says, back to awkward but in better ways. He is sure he has no pants that would fit. "Try it."

Khadgar slides behind his makeshift desk and opens his laptop. It is nine; they lost an hour somehow. "Alright, I'm going to send it over and you can read it on your phone," he says, pointedly not looking at Lothar lest he is changing, "and whenever you come across something that doesn't make sense or doesn't read well, we're going to edit that. It shouldn't be more than an hour, if what I wrote is remotely decent."

Lothar catches the shirt with a thankful if shy smile, then changes when Khadgar isn't watching. The shirt is big, he gives him that, but Lothar is a little broader than Khadgar around the shoulders, which is how he ends up wearing something that stretches a little around his biceps and this particular region of his body. It is warm and dry though, and it smells of Khadgar, which is a plus. Lothar puts his damp shirt to the other stuff he already put on the heater when Khadgar was gone and then looks around, finds a seat on a couch. He sits down and drags his legs to himself, his mobile phone in hand. "Alright, send it. I'll tell you when I find anything." _This is important for him_ , the older man thinks. _The faster he is done, the sooner we can talk more._

"Thanks." Khadgar finds himself a spot next to him on the couch with his laptop, pulls his legs up and smiles at him. "You might just save me from imminent doom."

He spends at least forty-five minutes reading; occasionally typing notes or wincing at a particularly poorly thought out sentence. All in all, he feels almost bad for asking this of Lothar, but he is equal parts curious to see what the man will think of it.

Lothar reads attentively. He nods whenever there is a sentence he finds especially nice, and marks the sentences he thinks could need some more work. One of them is so confusing that Lothar pats Khadgar lightly on the shoulder to get his attention, "Khadgar? This sentence here doesn't make any sense in the context." He shows the younger man his phone and especially the letters he means, coming near Khadgar without meaning too.

Too focused on the task at hand, Khadgar takes no notice of their proximity as he smiles with gratitude. "Ah, yes, I wasn't sure about that one either." He goes on to explain what he means, which in a way resembles what he wrote, but makes it clearer now. As he speaks, he figures he might as well use those words instead. Note taken, he turns back to his laptop, getting more comfortable the closer he comes to finishing it.

By the conclusion, he is practically flat on the couch, his head propped against Lothar's leg.

The changes in position are so subtle that Lothar only notices them when Khadgar's head is just about on his lap, resting warm and solid against his leg. A small part of Lothar wants to make a fuss about this, but the rest feels so comfortable that he really doesn't care. So he stays like this and absentmindedly moves to stroke his fingers through Khadgar's hair, not really realizing that he even does it. It has happened too often with him and Callan for him to feel anything but familiarity.

The thing is, it does distract Khadgar greatly. He only has a few more paragraphs of notes to correct, then to get it ready to send; and then actually send it. It is fifteen more minutes, adding some nice words in an email and then getting rid of the damn thing. And he just can't do it. "Are you done reading?" he whispers. "Did you like it?"

Only noticing now what he has been doing the entire time, Lothar thinks about stopping his ministrations, but then doesn't. His fingers continue their doing. "Yes, I liked it. I even understood it, so it must be good." The jab at himself is to make the situation lighter, "Are you scared to send it?" His voice is just as gentle as his hand moving in Khadgar's hair.

"Don't sell yourself short," hums Khadgar. This thoughts are not quite on sending it. The hand in his hair feels too good for that. Would this be what it's like, to let Lothar in? He has over an hour left before midnight, anyway. "At this point," he admits, "I'm just happy to get it over with. I've worked on it for months. Last week has been nothing but near all-nighters. I'm tired. Pride will come in a few days. I'm saving scared for when I have to defend it."

Lothar chuckles. "I'm sure you will rock that as well." He looks to Khadgar, notices that he is a little paler than usual, which is probably due to his irregular sleep cycle, if his words are to be believed. The older man sighs, but continues to stroke Khadgar's scalp nonetheless. The entire situation is damn comfortable. "If your thesis is approved and you managed to defend it completely, will you continue to work at the bureau?"

"If they give me a proper job." Khadgar forces himself awake to finish the last parts. He is quiet throughout the dictation of the email, as if any word can break his resolve. If he does this now, he can sleep. If he does, he—his eyes wander to Lothar above him, and he turns back to his email so quickly that the man must have noticed. Biting his lip to control himself, Khadgar checks everything three more times. When he finally sends it, he lies still for a full minute. There is dread—what if he missed a comment somewhere?—then disbelief. And finally, when he breathes out, comes mortification. He hasn't once offered his guest something to drink. Lothar has given his time to help him and Khadgar—. Shit.

Very, very uncomfortably, he scrapes his throat. "I'm sure you will want that coffee now."

Lothar noticed; he doesn't say anything until the email is sent. Amused, he shakes his head at Khadgar's question. "If I drink coffee now, I won't be able to sleep the entire night. And decaf is a plague that was invented to torment us poor humans." He shudders at the thought of it. "But I'd take a glass of water, if it's not too much effort." The comfortable situation could lead to something deeper if Lothar only pushed it, he knows it—can almost taste it at the back of his tongue. Yet Khadgar looks so tired, so perhaps they should do this another time. He isn't sure, but he can at least try the waters. "Say, Khadgar," he muses, "If my clothes aren't dry yet, would you mind if I…stayed here for the night?" For good measure, he adds, "I like it here. It's cozy."

Khadgar looks up from his position, a bit bleary-eyed by now but not all that tired. It is the hand in his hair, the one that keeps winding around his short hair even now, that sinks him into this lull. "Mh," he murmurs. Lothar's request is an excuse and he knows it. The man doesn't live more than a few blocks away, so he could easily put those clothes back on, face that weather, and get a hot shower to warm up upon getting home. "What if they _are_ dry?" he wonders.

It is a test. Lothar smiles to himself. "Even if they are, I'd really like to stay over. If you don't mind." His hand slowly winds itself deeper in that short hair. "I really, really like you, Khadgar."

Khadgar feels his heartbeat pick up. He doesn't move, not quite. His eyes close however, and a soft sound of approval encourages whatever it is that Lothar is doing. It feels good. Gods, he missed being on the receiving end of someone's affection. Neither of them are going to be happy if he got up to get that water now. "On the couch?" he idly makes conversation.

"Well," normally he'd back off here, but Lothar has far too much to lose if he does, so he continues, "only if your bed isn't big enough for us both?" He voices it as a question, he doesn't know if Khadgar would want him in there, but God, he wants to be near the younger man in any way possible.

"You are a bold one," Khadgar groans. "I'm sorry, but it really, really isn't." Courtesy of being a student who isn't being paid enough for what he does; the place is too small to hold more than a single bed. He stretches his limbs and moves until he is standing, and then, with the grace of a cat and the hormones of a man with needs, climbs into Lothar's lap. His fingertips search for purchase on the man's jaw, guide him up. And Khadgar slowly kisses him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the long wait! We wrote the story, we're just terribly slow at beta ;;

Lothar melts against full lips. His desire for the man in his lap pools in his stomach, before going lower still. He groans—the sound comes from deep within him—and carefully he sets his hands on Khadgar's sides. Shaking from desire as they do, they need something to hold on to, or he will probably go mad. Lothar closes his eyes. He just allows himself to _feel_ and gets a little bolder, moving his tongue along Khadgar's bottom lip, asking for entrance into the mouth hidden beneath.

They are back to square one. Back, Khadgar thinks, to all the rides on that bus when he imagined doing something like this, wondering if he'd ever have the guts for it. As a result, his thoughts have usually revolved around Lothar taking control. Not him. Yet here they are; Khadgar parts his lips, takes initiative. It is damn hard not to. Every touch, every response incites something stronger in him, until they are kissing with a necessity that is staggering. Khadgar laughs breathlessly. He takes off his shirt in one go, not breaking the contact of their lips for more than he has to.

_Please want this_ , repeats in his head. _Please don't back out now_.

It is Khadgar's warm skin beneath his fingers that ignites a fire in Lothar which is hard to quench. Slowly, he runs his hands up and down the younger man's chest, moves them to his sides, his digits finally making their way against a quivering stomach that jerks beneath his touch. Lothar grins into their kiss, then breaks away, the need to feel Khadgar's skin on his own a desperate one that needs to be dealt with _now_.

Thus he pulls his own shirt over his head, the one Khadgar has given him, before he drops it and presses their chests together. A moans escapes him, his brain too filled with desire to really think about backing out now. Lothar has craved the touch of another person far too long for that. "Khadgar," he whispers breathlessly, before he sets his lips on the other's again and kisses him deeply, as his hands wander to Khadgar's back to stroke down slowly, stopping only inches away from his ass.

It is what gives Khadgar pause. The situation sinks in. Does he have condoms? Is he presentable when naked? He will admit that once again he hasn't thought ahead at all. But he decides that if all else fails, he has his hands still. They can be pretty devastating on Lothar, granted that they stop shaking first. His mouth moves to the man's neck, while full lips nip at the skin. Simultaneously, the hand that isn't still on Lothar's jaw reaches to encourage Lothar's hand lower. Khadgar needs this so much that he's willing to deal with the fact that he doesn't know Lothar as much as he'd like. They will have time for that later, he thinks as he chuckles and breathes, "Yes?"

The vibration of Khadgar's chuckle against Lothar's neck sets off another moan. Lothar takes the younger man's wish by heart. His hands sink lower on the other's back, and before he knows it, they have slipped beneath the other's pants to grasp at warm flesh. The motion draws forth a long forgotten memory of him stimulating his first and only male lover. Perhaps Khadgar would like it, too?

So Lothar starts to knead the flesh in his hands while he bends his head, giving the younger man a better access to his neck. He doesn't care if Khadgar marks him up or not; the only thing he wants now are Khadgar's hands and lips on his body. "Don't stop, please," he therefore answers the former question, his voice husky from desire. "It feels so damn good."

And though he now wishes he'd gone for his flannels, Khadgar bemoans his choice to wear jeans instead. There is not enough space for Lothar to do this comfortably, here on the couch with space and their positions making things impossible. Khadgar is nothing if not practical though; the sound of a button being undone breaks up their breathing. "I won't stop," he promises. Lothar's hands are given the space they deserve, as Khadgar is becoming more and more exposed. "Hold—hold on," he interrupts much against his will, before he sits up, reaches over and tugs the curtains shut. Nobody is going to look in on them here. Nothing is going to end this short tonight. On his way back, Khadgar wriggles his jeans further down, but he needs help to get them past his ankles and off. "Thanks." His maneuver leaves him straddling Lothar's lap, the space between them bigger than before out of necessity while he nervously tugs on Lothar's belt.

Lothar slowly opens his belt. His hands are shaking from need and nervousness alike. He slips the button beneath. A part of him wants Khadgar to just boldly grip him now and stroke him to completion, but the rest of him wants this to be slow, wants to explore him; wants to make this is as pleasurable for both of them as it can get. He slowly lifts his hips, draws his jeans down, but leaves his boxershorts behind, obviously tented by his arousal. They come off easily, and join the pile on the ground.

All he can think of is the beautiful young man perched atop him, ready for more. Hands find their place on Khadgar's ass again, kneading him, while his lips wander to Khadgar's neck in search of his pulse. They nibble the flesh there, his beard dragging along sensitive skin.

God, he didn't know how much he wanted this until now.

Khadgar finally, through thick lashes, looks the man over—and laughs. His voice is hoarse already, a sample of what it is going to sound like later. "How are you possibly this ripped?" he wonders. How did Khadgar end up with someone with the body of a sports model? His hands move down a sculpted torso, to his navel—it is Khadgar's pleasure to tickle a circle around it, just to see if Lothar squirms—and fan out along his sides. But slowly he tips his head back so that he only relies on touch. Khadgar shifts. His hips roll experimentally—he is his own worst enemy, as the sensations draw a suppressed moan.

The two sets of underwear are not nearly enough to conceal their desire. If Khadgar has his way, that bulge is going to be inside him. "I lied about the bed," he says. "We can fit, if one of us is okay with going on top. But for more practical matters, uh, it's closer to the bathroom too. I mean," his breath hitches, "for the necessities." Condoms and lube. He really doesn't want to diminish the mood by having to address those technicalities.

With a voice still alive with laughter—he is ticklish, after all—Lothar replies, "Well, I think we should move this to your bedroom then?"

Not waiting for an answer, he places Khadgar's arms around him and slowly stands up, carrying the younger man with him, delighting in the way their erections touch when Khadgar's legs come to rest around his waist. Lothar blindly carries the younger man; he doesn't really care about where he goes, as long as they end up in the bedroom somehow. His entire being is too focused on rubbing himself against Khadgar's hard dick, moaning all the while into the younger man's ear. His earlier nervousness has become a forgotten memory.

His actions cause Khadgar to nearly lose his grip, twice. "Left," he slurs before he retaliates, pushing his hips down until those two thin pieces of fabric are all that is keeping Lothar from pushing in. He makes sure to latch onto the man's lips when they are conveniently close to the door between his minimalistic bedroom and the rest of the place. Khadgar doesn't play fair. He wants Lothar to pause and push him up against it.

The bedroom, well, the bedroom is Spartan. It contains one bed, a feet or so of space to move around, and that is it. "Lie down," Khadgar all but purrs into Lothar's ear. He wriggles out of his hold until his feet touch the ground, then escapes to rummage around in the bathroom.

There is a moment when he looks at himself in the mirror, all lust and need, and barely recognizes himself. Barely grasps that this is real. There is a man in his bed. A man he has wanted for a long time, even when he would rather not. Nervousness once again makes a mess of his insides. Oh goodness. This is happening.

Doing as Khadgar said, Lothar lies down on the bed. He relishes in the soft—if used—sheets and blankets, which are not as warm as the living room was. Lothar doesn't mind. Before he lies down on the bed however, he is so nice as to pull the curtains close, before he finds the light switch. The room floods with a soft yellow light.

Lothar laughs a little when he notices that his hands are shaking again. His earlier nervousness rears its ugly head again. Not because he thinks he is not worthy of Khadgar—those thoughts have been pushed back into the far corners of his mind—but because it has been a long time since he has had sex. There had been people after his wife. His first ever boyfriend. Others. But never has it been something that could grow into a real relationship.

Lothar doesn't know what to do, doesn't know what to say, and feels how his thoughts try to make him get up and leave. He is in over his head. Yet there is this nagging voice inside him, sounding funnily enough like his sister telling him to just talk to Khadgar and tell him the truth. And seriously, who says Khadgar isn't as nervous as Lothar, himself?

This assumption calms him at long last, and Lothar stills, waiting for Khadgar as he looks around the room, seeing books he has never heard of, and only few he knows.

By the time Khadgar returns with his hands behind his back, the room has become more inviting. Well, there is a man on his bed, and that helps a lot. He leans his shoulder against the cold metal of the doorway, smooths over the reflex of wincing, and simply takes in the sight. Lothar. On his bed. The space is far from ideal, but then again, they can make it work. "Look at you," he whispers. "You're gorgeous." How can this man be both so freakishly good-looking and still be so very aware of himself?

Extracting himself from the door, he pads over and puts a packet and a tube on the floor, next to the piles of books there strewn about. Khadgar sits on the edge of his bed. He doesn't want to just go ahead and sit atop him. Or actually, he really does, but he doesn't want to scare Lothar off. Instead he tucks his hands under the blanket for a few seconds, rubs them there to take off the bite of cold that the bathroom has given it. And finally he leans closer, searches the man's eyes, to kiss him again.

Khadgar takes it slow this time around. He allows for Lothar to make up his own mind, instead of letting his own urgency bulldoze over him. The kiss is tentative, slow, and exploratory. It nips, playfully bites, and licks a line along the other man's curve of his upper lip. It's…more than good.

"You're not so bad on the eye yourself," Lothar manages to say, before Khadgar's lips descend upon his again, the younger man sitting next to him on the bed. It feels nice, and Lothar practically melts into the kiss, reciprocating it just as slowly, taking his time to map the seam of Khadgar's lips with his tongue. But he wants more, _needs_ more. Carefully, he breaks away from the kiss to look into Khadgar's eyes. They are dark from arousal, and as beautiful as the first time he saw them. His hand comes to a rest on the other's cheek, some of his fingers touching his jaw and throat, and he slowly rubs his thumb against a smooth cheek. "Khadgar," he chides gently. "Come here." His other hand tries to drag the younger man atop him, "I want you."

Khadgar nods breathlessly. He licks his lips, visibly pulls together his courage, and moves himself to where Lothar wants him to be. Why is it that, every time they part for longer than a second, he needs to calm his nerves? Khadgar could make a quip about it, about how he should be the one who is going to sleep on top and thanks for warming the bed, or he could pick a range of worshipful words that describe Lothar to the man in question. But it also takes just as little for him to melt into the touch. Khadgar leads kisses and directs their frotting. His underwear is becoming more a frustration than a barrier of safety. Before he goes there though, he leans his weight forward, his hips off Lothar, and whispers in his ear, while a hand crawls down across the flat expanse of his abdomen to the elastic below, "May I?"

The nearer his hand comes to Lothar's aching flesh, the louder becomes Lothar. Feeling nimble fingers on the verge of gripping one of the most private parts of himself feels oddly nice and soothing; not at all weird as he might have thought. Before Lothar can even think about it in all its details, he nods, "Yes, please," and if that last word sounds a little desperate, then he doesn't care, his mind completely consumed by the thought of this wonderful young man above him, who wants him, _him_ , of all people. His hands rest against Khadgar's shoulders and stroke there, fingernails sometimes indenting skin, but never too painfully. "Khadgar, one more thing."

Now is probably his last chance to say it, so Lothar takes as much courage as he can muster up and looks the other in the eye, "It's been a really long time since I've last done this. I'm a little nervous that I can't," he swallows, "amount to expectations. If you know what I mean. Is that alright?"

Searching eyes look back at him. Khadgar is confused. He tries to understand what caused this statement. Is it—but no, Lothar definitely has no trouble getting it up. He literally has the body of a god, and he has so far not made any comments about Khadgar's own less than gym-perfect body. That is when it sinks in that this is the same nervousness that has made things awkward between them before. And Khadgar is quite done with it. "What are you talking about?" his breath skims the other's lips, "You're exceeding every expectation I had of this night. I don't care, okay? All I want is to actually touch you and for you to touch me. There aren't any other expectations from me." But since they are on the topic. "One request, maybe. Stay for breakfast."

Something in Lothar gives at that statement, and he very nearly sobs with relief, kisses the younger man hungrily, his arms dragging Khadgar closer so that their chests can touch once more. When he breaks away from him, he leans his forehead against Khadgar's and smiles at him, "Of course I'll stay. Anything, if you just don't stop touching me now."

He kisses his way down Khadgar's neck, nibbling at his collarbone before his lips wander up once more. A growl rises from deep within his throat when their erections touch, separated as they still are by the fabric of their respective boxershorts. "We are wearing too many clothes." Lothar licks a wet stripe all the way to Khadgar's ear, before he bites his earlobe softly, "Touch me, Khadgar. And call me _Anduin_ , please."

So Khadgar, he will later deny, whimpers. No longer hesitant as much as anticipatory, he slips under the waistband faster than would be deemed romantic or sensible. And he downright groans like it is him being touched when he finds, in the heat down the curls of Lothar's lowest abdomen, his cock to wrap his fingers around. " _Anduin_ ," he gasps. It almost sounds as if he nicknamed the man's member. Khadgar suppresses his childish entertainment in favor of closing his eyes and starting his exploration. After enough of a tease, he finally wraps a fist around him. His thumb finds the slit. "Take off your underwear."

Lothar moans, deep and primal, changing between kissing Khadgar's neck and his shoulder, before he nods weakly, his fingers going to his waistband. Somehow, his teasing side wins over, as he slowly slides his boxers down his legs, making sure to look at Khadgar through his lashes, wanting nothing more than for the younger man to return the favor. "Take yours off too. I need to feel you against my cock."

"You can't just _say_ stuff like that," complains Khadgar. It means he has to let go and sit back. Whoever decided that underwear can't be taken off by zippers on the side, or whatever, needs to have himself checked. He does it as fast as he can—or so he intends. When Lothar pushes down his own, Khadgar sort of…just stops. Absently kicks off his boxers. And proceeds to return to the bed between the man's legs rather than on top of him. He looks up at Lothar, decides _fuck it_ , and casually remarks, "How would you like it if I put my mouth around you?" God, he's hungry for this man.

The sight is so arousing that Lothar almost comes right then and there, so hard does it make him. He swallows deeply, wanting nothing more than to have those plush lips wrapped around him. "I would like it very much," he moans. "Geez, you look so fucking arousing like this." His verbal filter seems to have been taken away by desire, and his bluntness is something that surprises even him, but in the end he doesn't care. As long as he stays here with Khadgar in this very moment, he doesn't care about anything anymore.

"Good," Khadgar purrs. He looks mildly self-aware at the compliment, and almost brushes it away because it is easier to deal with that way. It takes time before he allows the words in. Crawling forward is supposed to look sexy. Well, it looks clumsy instead. So maybe Khadgar isn't all that which he has made himself up to be, either. His hand returns to stroke Lothar, before his mouth finally follows. It takes its time to become acquainted by peppering kisses along the shaft first. Khadgar looks up every now and then, just to see how Lothar likes it. He wants more from the man than just a taste though, and warns himself not to go too far when finally Lothar's cock disappears between his lips. But goodness does he love how it feels.

Except Khadgar isn't Khadgar if his thoughts don't suddenly take him for a spin. He pauses with his tongue flat against the head, pulls away wetly, and extracts himself. "On your side," he pats Lothar's hip. "I've got an idea." And with some awkward moving about, he manages to get himself lying on the bed next to him, his face at the perfect height to resume his activities, while Lothar, if he wants, now has access to him too.

Lothar almost bucks when Khadgar's lips finally surround his shaft. He breathes harshly, can't do anything against the moans that pearl from his lips like water. He wants to do something. Anything. Lothar just lies there as Khadgar practically devours him, unable to do something other than groan the younger man's name. "Khadgar, Khadgar…"

He is so thankful that he decided to not give in to his nervousness, and when Khadgar's cock rests next to his face, Lothar grows even bolder. Slowly, his hand grips him, holding him steady, before his tongue flicks out and licks the head, tasting the younger man on his tongue first. He likes the taste of him, bitter but sweet, and somehow so _Khadgar_ that he can't get enough of it. Thinking about it, he hopes that his technique is still as good as it was years ago, and so he boldly takes Khadgar's erection into his mouth, swallowing it down his throat, suppressing his gag reflex with surprising ease. It is a little like driving a bike. You never forget how to do it.

What he does completely takes the younger by surprise. His hand stills against Lothar's base, down in the tuft, while Khadgar gasps. The cock slips from his lips. With wide, blown eyes does he look between them, right to where Lothar is taking him in. All of him. Khadgar has never had someone do that to him. Aside from the big stories on the internet, he thought it was a rare and difficult thing in real life. But here Lothar is, and Khadgar feels a great, great affection bloom up. It confuses him. He would understand an urge to rut; not this. "Anduin," he moans. His own work is sloppy at best by now. "Oh, _fuck_. I'm not—" And he literally pulls out of Lothar's throat with a moan of loss. "In me. Before you make me—fuck, what _was that_?"

Disappointed at the loss, Lothar sits up a little. Half an apology is ready on his tongue when Khadgar's words register. He blushes deeply and scratches his neck in obvious embarrassment. "I told you about the guy I fell in love with after my wife?" He clears his throat, the memory just as arousing as it is horrifying. "I kind of…did everything for him, and trained myself to…do this…" his hand moves to indicate in the general direction of Khadgar's dick. Again his throat is cleared, before he comes back to the topic at hand, "Where are the lube and condom?"

"Right. Uh. Floor." A wave is supposed to help Lothar find it. "Lotha—Anduin. I, uh, I'm happy you learned that. I mean, I'm _really happy_ you did. But, well," oh, he has no way of saying this nicely, "do what _you_ want to do, okay? Or ask me to do something you want." It is too soon to bring this up. But Khadgar really doesn't want Lothar to be that pushover. It wouldn't be healthy for either of them, just as it wouldn't be half as much fun if Khadgar had that much influence. "It's about you too." He licks his lips. "So what is it you want?"

"Don't worry, I wanted to take you into my mouth," Lothar assures the younger man. It comes out a little awkward. But the sentiment is chased away by Khadgar's next words—and especially the licking of those plush lips that Lothar almost can't resist. He swallows. "I want to be inside you when I come," he whispers, "And I want—I want to hear you scream my name…" He sounds a little unsure still, but it is mostly nerves; otherwise he is completely in the here and now. Taking the lube and condom from where Khadgar put them earlier, he sets them down between his legs. "Come here."

Khadgar complies readily. "Scream?" he asks with a poorly hidden spark of lust. "Alright. Okay. I am usually quiet as a mouse when I'm alone, but," and he nips at Lothar's mouth playfully, "I'll see what I can do." Not knowing how Lothar wants him, he is ready for any direction he gets. His cock is twitching, part of him wanting to just ask Lothar to do again what he just did. Something tells him though that this is going to be worth all the strained patience.

The older man waits until Khadgar is over him, before he takes him by the hips and flips the both of them around so that Khadgar is lying on his back; Lothar hovering over him like a lion over his prey. He licks his lips at the sight, presses his erection into Khadgar's hip and then grips for lube and condom, setting both of them next to the younger man. He opens the lube and presses some of the cold liquid onto his fingers, trying to warm it by blowing his breath on it somewhat, before his eyes search for Khadgar's. "I'll start with one finger."

Said digit is instantly deployed, teasing the puckered rim that will let Lothar inside Khadgar's body, before he pushes it in as gently as he can. He doesn't know when Khadgar had sex for the last time, but for Lothar it has been a while. He wants to see the younger man shake apart on his fingers all the more.

"Good," nods Khadgar. "That's good. Just—this—" Flat on his back, his eyes bore into Lothar's, and as much as he feels like his own responses are being watched, so does he read Lothar's. There is no pain yet. One finger isn't too hard. It stings a little, but it also feels really good to have inside. Khadgar sinks into the sheets and breathes out, suddenly pursing his lips at a nub of pleasure. His toes curl. Hips push against the digit to pull it deeper. Khadgar grasps for the man and leads him down to kiss him. "You on top is really hot," he whispers.

Lothar chuckles, "You beneath me is even hotter, believe me." He kisses Khadgar's neck before he pulls back, taking his one finger out of Khadgar, only to enter him with two. "Tell me if I do something uncomfortable, alright?" He pumps them in and out, in and out, while his other hand wanders to Khadgar's erection, grips it gently. His thumb rubs the head lightly, delighting in every moan and every gasp he can draw from the man beneath him. "God, I can't wait to be inside you."

Egging him on is something Khadgar didn't know he could like so much. "Yes?" he asks. Two fingers is a far stretch from comfortable, so he gestures with one hand on Lothar's free one. Still, Khadgar is smirking, his hips restless just as his body longs to move. A tension waits to be undone. "What are you going to do with me?" In a pause, he kisses him on the mouth, then loops his arms around his shoulders. All the while, he pushes himself down onto the two fingers and whimpers. But he doesn't pull back. "Don't—don't move for a bit."

His muscles are twitching around the fingers; Lothar can't not know. Khadgar merely breathes hard, bites his lip, and buries his face against the other man's shoulder.

"Touch me," he begs when seconds later he is still clenching around the intrusion.

It is with kisses that Lothar tries to make Khadgar relax. His fingers feel as if they are in a vice, so hard does Khadgar grip at them. He grasps the younger man's erection still, and starts to pump it when Khadgar begs him, the words and tone alone turning him on very, very much. "I know something even better." He wiggles out from under Khadgar's arm and crawls down that delicious body beneath him until he reaches his cock, then gently kisses it while his hand wraps around the base. He doesn't want the younger man to come just yet, but he wants him to experience pleasure. And he wants to make sure that Khadgar knows how Lothar wants him to feel him with all he has. Why not use skills if he has learned then? "Don't worry, I don't mind this," he says, before he takes a deep breath and takes the younger man into his mouth again until he hits the back of Lothar's neck, swallowing him as far as he can.

The effect is instantaneous. Khadgar hisses a loud "Fuck!" and nearly tries to scramble away, before arching his back and letting his knees fall apart. He doesn't know what to do; all he can do is take it. And it is so _good_. Half of the pleasure that takes over his system is the idea alone, and he knows it. Lothar can take him all the way in. Khadgar can feel how, much like he must do around Lothar's fingers, a muscle contracts around his cock. The very same way, Lothar wills his throat to relax. Khadgar is so distracted by that, that he does not anticipate the fingers starting to move. He responds embarrassingly sensitively. "How," he gasps, "could you ever have thought you wouldn't be good? Third, third please. Or you. I don't know if I can take it, but if you don't soon, I swear it'll be too late. Good _god_ , Anduin."

Lothar likes it when Khadgar moans his name, likes it very much. His own erection lies hot and heavy against his stomach, pulsing with heat at Khadgar's words, but he knows that he will only hurt the younger man if he is too fast. He opts for gentle, then, and enters Khadgar with a third finger, first taking in his reaction before he starts deep-throating the younger man again, looking for any signs that the other is close. When Khadgar's legs finally start quivering does he stop, letting the erection slide out of his mouth with a wet sound that is as obscene as it is arousing to the older man. "Fuck, I can't wait to be inside you. You feel so tight around my fingers, it's incredible." He moves his fingers once more, looking for his reaction.

Khadgar, Khadgar already looks thoroughly fucked. He is breathing hard, his eyes so dark that they might as well be black, and although he lies pretty much on display, he is far from passive. "Imagine what that's going to do around you," he manages to have a verbal comeback even now. "Try me on for size, Anduin." A fatigued, lazy seduction underlies Khadgar's words. It isn't something he usually does. Lothar is full of surprises like that. His leg hooks around Lothar's hip. "Bend me forward," he goads.

For a moment he looks at Lothar, pauses, and then winces at what he just said. "Just, do it," Khadgar asks with less bravery and more honesty. "I need you."

Lothar chuckles. Khadgar really has to work on his dirty talk, but Lothar is too far gone to care about it right now. Just a few more strokes does he manage before he takes his fingers out of the younger man, then grips the condom package. Shortly after, the rubber is on his cock, being lubed up, before he pulls on his member a few times and really does bend Khadgar almost in two, his dick pressing against the younger man's hole. "Are you ready?" He whispers, rubbing against the entrance.

Khadgar nods with pronunciation. He feels the pressure, as well as the moment when his body gives way. The first bit is okay, it always is, but as soon as Lothar makes it to the ring does Khadgar feel the stretch overpower him. Again, it isn't unexpected, and nor is this the first time Khadgar has to deal with it. He shakes his head once, shortly, apologetically offering a kiss while he works on relaxing himself. "Almost," he promises. "It seems that I'm the one being a little rusty, hm?" Depending on how this proceeds between them, after tonight, Khadgar is sure to at least once see how stretching himself beforehand would work out.

Chuckling, Lothar kisses Khadgar's forehead, holding himself back as not to pound into the younger man the moment he breaches the rim, "Don't worry, I'll get you through." He takes Khadgar's dick into his hand again and strokes it slowly, a languid pace that is nothing more than him trying to get the younger man to relax. "Take deep breaths, Khadgar. In, and out, in, and out. Focus on my voice, on my hand, on my smell. Close your eyes and feel your body, everywhere I touch you, and concentrate on it." He kisses Khadgar's ear. "You'll be fine soon."

"Who _are_ you?" Khadgar asks, astonished. He is used to having to deal with the stretch himself. More than capable himself, this side of Lothar is one that he hasn't seen before. The man is encouraging him. So Khadgar follows the commands, focuses on his breathing and melts into the sensations against his skin. And it is working. Finally, he doesn't want to stave it off any longer. And so his weight falls back into the sheets. A small nod follows. "I'm okay," he says.

Lothar waits until Khadgar is relaxed enough so that his movement won't hurt, before he slowly pulls out a little and thrusts in. The sensations assaulting him are breathtaking. It has been so long since he has been inside of someone, since he has been this close to someone, and it just feels _fucking_ amazing. Especially since Khadgar obviously wants him. "Fuck, Khadgar," he moans after the first two to three thrusts, "God, you're so damn tight." His nervousness, his asshole side, his cowardly mannerisms; all are forgotten when he is facing this wonderful young man and gives him pleasure, and finally forgets to shackle himself down through his own high standards, his self-loathing and his doubt. He feels free in this moment, as if his being is soaring within a sky in which he can be himself, in which he is _appreciated_ for it.

Damn, what is Khadgar doing to him?

Unaware of all of this, Khadgar's mind is occupied by far other things. His body is quickly growing used to having Lothar inside him. Now that it no longer feels like a stretch, the pleasure is beginning to push through. He doesn't know how else to show Lothar how amazing it feels other than kiss him, use his hands to bring their mouths close and later to slip down and dig into the skin on his sides. Khadgar cut his nails a few days ago; he is sure at least that he isn't going to hurt the man like that. It is mindblowingly good just to feel him push in and out, at a pace that is ever increasing until it tells Khadgar exactly how much Lothar needs him. He does that, he realizes. Somehow, Khadgar got this good-looking man to want him. It gives him a rush that is only exceeded by what he feels, his cock trapped between both their bodies and rubbed against his own belly as he is taken again and again. It makes him generous, a bit more vocal. More daring, at least. "Anduin," he draws out a moan that would have made him blush in any other situation. "You feel so good. So big." He feels so full.

The feeling is quite mutual, with Lothar not believing how good Khadgar feels, how good it is to be inside a man again. He's a little overwhelmed to be honest, all those sensations on his body bringing forth long forgotten memories, but he pushes them away when they try to take over. He should stay on the here and now, especially to _find Khadgar's prostate so that he can make the younger man scream like he promised_. His hands, big and warm, smooth over the younger man's legs, then Lothar changes the angle a little—there. He is pretty sure he just found that bundle of nerves.

Except Lothar is to find out that old habits die hard. Although Khadgar gasps out and, if he could, would have convulsed under him—hands digging into skin, and knees clenching around him—he doesn't scream. He pants hard, crashes their lips together, so there can be no doubt just how good that felt. "Oh god, oh god, oh god," he whispers in a litany. Wetting his lips, groaning, his body slowly relaxes as much as it can. "Again. _Again_."

Next time it happens, Khadgar thinks he owes his neighbors an apology. Partly due to the fact that he is in the middle of panting Lothar's name when his sweet spot is struck again, "God, I—" ends in a strangled and unintentionally loud, " _Anduin!_ "

Well, he doesn't really owe his neighbors anything. They keep him awake all the time when they have someone over.

Khadgar does like returning the favor.

His gasps are music to Lothar's ears, although every now and then he opts to swallow the moans with his mouth. But the loudest so far—the almost yell, spurns him on to accelerate his pace, and find that sweet spot over and over again that will make Khadgar melt beneath his hands. "Fuck!" He moans into the other's ear, sucks a lazy hickey into the warm skin beneath his mouth, "Khadgar."

Toes curling into the sheets in pleasure, he starts assaulting the others prostate in earnest.

Khadgar is helpless under him. "No no no," he begs, "slow down, I can't—" But at the third strike in just as many thrusts, with no chance to recover, his system completely overloads. His head falls back, seed spurting between them, as he may not cry out anything that is actually a word but the sounds he make are a crescendo that still end in a yell of ecstasy. Khadgar isn't one to be loud. That he is, right now, is wholly on how Lothar loves it, and how debauched it makes him feel. He isn't sure if he can handle Lothar finding his prostate again, but the way he clenches around him must not make it easy. "Oh shit," he laughs, exhausted. "My ears are ringing."

"Fuck—" Lothar can do nothing but curse this as Khadgar comes. Not only does the sound the other makes turn him on beyond anything he's ever heard, but the way Khadgar clenches around him is even better, bringing the older man to the verge of coming. It takes a few more thrusts to push him over the edge, then that hot wave sweeps out from his cock through his entire body, making his body tingle all over, ripping an unintelligible sound from his lips as his release spurts into the condom.

He feels boneless and sated afterwards, his breath heavy and noisy within his mouth, holding himself up by sheer force of will as not to collapse on the younger man, his elbows quivering.

Khadgar smiles lazily but with fascination. The orgasm ripping through the man above him is beautiful. Gone is the timid, sometimes downright unapologetically rude man from the bus; neither does he see the person whose insecurities and past have made Khadgar wonder if he wasn't getting in too deep. But here, to be able to witness this is worth all the insecurity he might be faced with. "You are shaking," he whispers, rolling them onto their side with ease. Lothar slips a little further out, but Khadgar does his best not to let him go just yet. "That was amazing." He kisses him again, softer and shorter, made of nips. He tastes sweat. Khadgar is sure he doesn't look very appetizing right now; everything about him is slippery, not to mention sticky from the mess between them.

Lying on his side is so much better, Lothar muses, especially when Khadgar kisses him. He takes in the entire length of the man with his eyes, and if he weren't in post-orgasmic bliss, he'd have asked Khadgar if they could do it again. Now.

But he is done for today, tries to show Khadgar his appreciation by stroking down from his shoulder to his side, then to his stomach before he does something he'd never thought he'd do. He sweeps his fingers through the sticky come on Khadgar's stomach and brings it to his mouth for a taste. His orgasm made him bolder, it seems. "You taste really good," he groans, "And you're so gorgeous like this. So hot." His hand finds Khadgar's cheek and strokes it tenderly before he kisses him again.

Khadgar has run out of words. If his eyes look darker, the moment Lothar _actually tastes his cum_ , then he plays it off as a trick of the light. Or not. Right now he doesn't care much for pretenses. "Yeah?" he whispers. "I don't think it's right that you let me taste myself but not you. Next time, hm?" He wants this man to come in his mouth; for once, Khadgar wants to swallow it down. He wants his own seed in Lothar's beard. He wants a lot he hasn't had a taste for, before. "Can we lie like this for a while? I don't want to get up." He smiles, his eyes blatantly taking in every close-up detail. "I don't get it. You. I mean, you feel so fucking good. And I never suspected, only hoped. How are you not already seeing someone?"

The question dulls the haze somewhat. Lothar doesn't want to feel self-conscious again. He tries really hard not to let that side of him win. Searching his words carefully, he answers, "For a long while I just didn't have the time. I was a marine, and barely managed to raise Callan through it. And after I was just so—I kind of adopted the asshole attitude so people wouldn't get close, and because sometimes not caring about others helps me focus on myself—if that makes sense to you." He drags Khadgar near him, still inside him, to stroke his skin lazily, "And most people aren't as stubborn as you, giving up after the first few tries." He grins a little sheepishly and kisses Khadgar's cheek, "Thank God you're stubborn."

"I didn't expect an actual answer," Khadgar admits, nipping an affectionate kiss. "I was just counting my luck." He knows they won't be able to be like this much longer. Eventually—he is surprised there that it hasn't happened yet—Lothar is going to go soft, and keeping him in will be pretty much impossible. "But because this is a confessional…I may have sort of wanted you since that time I borrowed you my heating pads against your will." Now he does look down, terribly self-aware. Khadgar has wanted this man for too long to be comfortable admitting it without coming across as clingy. "I wouldn't call that stubborn. More like hopeless."

"It took a little longer with me. And I don't think you're hopeless…more like adorable," Lothar teases, nibbling along Khadgar's jaw.

Khadgar opens his mouth. Closes it. And then blurts out, "Go out with me."

The question comes as a surprise. Lothar imagines it. Going on dates with the younger man, taking him out to dinner, to a movie perhaps, which leads his mind to think of all the things one can do in a darkened room—but seriously, he would like that, really like that. He craves someone he can wake up to in the morning and call _his_. "Gladly." His voice is quiet but sure, his face serious.

When he finally goes soft, he pulls out of the younger man with a wet sound, mindful to take the condom with him before he sits up and looks for the trash.

"Bathroom," Khadgar supplies helpfully. "Actually not a bad idea for both of us." He would rather sleep, but if he's very honest, he doesn't think they spilled on the sheets and he just changed them, so cleaning himself up might just make that he can use the sheets a few days longer. He pretends not to have butterflies for the simple fact that Lothar agreed to dinner. Maybe more. Khadgar hopes for a lot more. He won't bring it up now; if they both want it, then he is sure it will happen at some point. He gets up, draws Lothar's dirty, naked body flush against him and tugs on his hand. "Come on. Let's get us both cleaned up."


	6. Chapter 6

Time marches forward mercilessly, and before anyone knows it, Christmas is upon them. Lothar, usually looking forward to the holidays as he gets to play silly games with his niece and nephew while the rest of the family watches in mock annoyance, feels himself grow nervous every time he thinks about Khadgar's present. He wonders if it isn't too personal, if they're not moving too fast, but he also knows he wants to make the younger man a more permanent person in his life. _This is a good start_ , he thinks to himself as his fingers fumble the spare key of his apartment in his pocket. By some chance of luck, Khadgar will like it and not call him out as the most uncreative person on the planet. Lothar feels like they're ready for this, to take this step forward.

Not so much for the other item on him, the small envelope in his backpack from when Taria had visited him at lunch and managed to corner him, then pressed the thing into his hand. " _I want to meet the man who makes you so happy_ ," she had said, and Lothar hadn't had the heart to deny her. Which is the reason why he finds himself in front of Khadgar's apartment on a wintry night, three days before Christmas. Taking a deep sigh, he forces his nervousness away—which gets easier the more he does it—and rings the doorbell.

Khadgar needs a minute to answer. From within the apartment come sounds of someone hurrying and tripping halfway in the process. When the door opens, it is to reveal Khadgar still wet from a shower, a shirt slapped on haphazardly over pajama bottoms. "Lothar!" he exclaims, instantly happy to see him. "Hi! Come in!" His neighbors have complained about his frequent guest, which is why Khadgar expressly gets into the hallway to kiss him full on the lips before he drags the man in.

Whatever Lothar has wanted to say flies out the door at the sight of Khadgar's skin still damp from a shower without him. He is almost sad, were it not for this delicious sight Khadgar makes. Thus Lothar responds to the kiss eagerly. His hands rest on Khadgar's hips, caressing him through the thin fabric of his shirt, before he edges the younger man back into his apartment. One of his hands stops to close the door. As soon as it shuts, Lothar crowds Khadgar's thinner form against it. "You look so ready to be ravished," he whispers. His sense of smell is assaulted by the fresh note of Khadgar's shampoo, and he takes a deep breath. "I can't get enough of you."

Khadgar purrs against him. "I'm not saying you have to." He draws himself up until Lothar is supporting him against the wall, legs anchored around his waist. It is a pleasant surprise to have this unexpected visit—though in all honesty, Khadgar was going to send the man a picture of himself along with shameless display of skin and an invitation later. Flustering his boyfriend is something which gives him great pleasure. Like now. "What brings you here?" he asks, being fairly certain that what compelled Lothar here is exactly what they are doing right now, nipping at each other with hands in each other's hair while they are both very much hard already.

Their new position allows Lothar to drive them both mad with want. Their erections rubbing against each other in delicious friction, he feels as if his brain might short-circuit any moment while his lust chases every uncertainty away. "Sex first, questions later," he whispers hotly against Khadgar's lips, before his legs move on their own accord and do not stop walking until they reach the bedroom. Only there does he let Khadgar go to rid himself of his clothes. 

Soon enough, he presses Khadgar's naked form into the sheets with his own while he slides in and out of his lover. Their pace is hard and fast; just what they both need right now. Lothar feels as if his hunger for the other man is never going to cease, and comes harshly into the condom as the other clenches around him deliciously.

After they have caught their breath, lying next to each other with Lothar's leg over Khadgar's hip in a comfortable position, Lothar finally tells the reason of his visit. Besides the sex, that is. "My sister invited us to Christmas," he says. "As a couple." He leaves it at that for now, his hand absentmindedly drawing shapes upon Khadgar's biceps.

"Ah." Khadgar moves with all the grace of a man who has been fucked boneless. He lethargically nudges at his lover until his forehead is resting against the man's chest, where he can almost taste the saltiness from the skin that his mouth never touches. Lothar may not be aware of it, really, but Khadgar has taken a liking to his post-orgasmic sheen of transpiration. "She's late, isn't she? Christmas is in three days." He curves deliciously against his lover. A hand traces the man's back. "I was beginning to think she wouldn't. We'd have had all the time in the world for ourselves if she hadn't. Still," he murmurs, "you want an answer, don't you? I can tell that something about it makes you nervous."  
"I am," he knows now that he can talk with Khadgar about anything, _should_ talk with Khadgar about it if he doesn't want to fuck up again. "Most of my family will be there. Perhaps even a former friend of mine, if we can get him to leave his library for more than a few hours." He sighs, "I just don't want them to start bothering us with questions. And they will, believe me."

"What kinds of questions?" Khadgar pokes curiously. He is sure he can avoid the really personal ones, the ones that ask for details about what they do behind closed doors; he would only have to find one of the kids and make sure he stays within their hearing range. He kisses a sticky kiss against Lothar's chest. "I'll come. I expected you to ask me some time ago, to be honest. You took your time."

"Well, _she_ took her time," Lothar corrects. But he knows that really, it is not only his sister who wants him there. "First they will probably start with the usual; how long we've been together; how we met each other, and so on. Then my sister will probably corner us and ask us who tops, and if we're always safe, and if we tried BDSM." Lothar nudges Khadgar with his nose, "She's one of those women who get off thinking about two guys doing it with each other." He looks at Khadgar then, stroking his face, "And then the really serious questions start. When do we want to move in with each other? Have we thought about marriage; about adopting kids? It happened when I was with Cally, too." Lothar rolls on his back and takes Khadgar with him, so that the younger man is draped over him like a blanket—if a very fleshy human one. "I've been preparing myself mentally for this for days."

Khadgar offers another kiss in consolation. "Can't you simply say it's none of their business?" He must admit that some of those questions sound daunting; but they also sound like things you wouldn't even ask people who have been together for a long time. "They're not the kind you can scare off with too much information, are they? Well. I was actually looking forward to a family Christmas for a change. I _want_ to meet them. But I can't assure you that I'd give family-friendly answers to any of those questions."

"Just answer the questions you feel comfortable with." Lothar's hand finds its way into Khadgar's hair, "And if they don't stop bothering us, we can leave." He doesn't want to do that, really, but his family can sometimes be crass. Perhaps, if he is lucky, simply the threat of leaving will make them shut up. He yawns, all this thinking and especially their earlier activities having made him real tired. "I'm exhausted." He starts stroking Khadgar's hair. "Let's talk more tomorrow, yeah?"

Now Khadgar laughs. He swats at the man. "Shower." It is his one rule, even though it usually ends with them getting distracted with each other all over again. "I'm coming with you," he promises. It is scary, now. He gets to meet Lothar's family. This is a big thing; something which Lothar's previous partner did not get. And it isn't until then that Khadgar realizes what he is being given. This is serious. Of course it is serious, he corrects; he has never thought of this as just something until they got tired with it. But it is serious _to Lothar_.

Groaning, Lothar complies. And like so often, the showers takes a lot longer than normal with them rutting against each other. The orgasm, paired with the other sensations, are enough to chase away any nervous thoughts Lothar might still have, at least for the time being. He sleeps contentedly in Khadgar's bed.

The following days end up dragging on. Lothar can't wait for his family to meet Khadgar, and yet he dreads it as if it is his death sentence. He takes deep breaths to calm himself when the idea gets to be too much, and hopes that Taria and the others will be on their best behavior. Once more he finds himself in front of Khadgar's door, ready to pick him up and drive to Taria's and Llane's house together. He doesn't know if he is dressed for the occasion with his blue jacket over a black turtleneck, and hopes his family goes comfortable rather than formal this year. He never knows. Clearing his throat, he fumbles a little with the hem before he rings the bell.

When the door opens, it is to reveal a genuinely worried Khadgar. "Uh," the young man cringes, "I'm late, aren't I? Shit, I didn't—what do I even wear? And we're staying over, right? Do we bring sleeping bags? Or—god, and I don't know any of them, so I have no idea if they're going to like my presents, and—"

He is a complete mess.

The sight he presents makes Lothar's heart melt. Once more he realizes that the poor man has never had a family to experience the madness that is Christmas, but also the beautiful memories that come with it. His own nervousness gives way in favor of helping his lover, and he starts off with a sweet kiss. "They'll love your presents, believe me." 

He comes into the flat and closes the door behind him. "Show me your clothes. I'll help you decide and then we'll pack a bag for the night together, yeah?" If he kisses Khadgar again just to calm him down, well, he's not going to call himself out on it.

They end up going through the small collection of clothes that Khadgar has. Khadgar knows he should have bought something for the occasion, but as always he thinks of these things too late. With one pair of pajama bottoms in the laundry, he only has one other option for that. Oversized t-shirts are doable to sleep in, he thinks. But he owns next to nothing made for the holidays. One tacky Christmas sweater; a gift from one of his high school friends ages back. It still fits, but it might be a little juvenile to be walking around in a bright red thing with a giant snowman on it. And then there is that jacket that looks far too fancy when compared to the rest of his options.

It takes them some time, but Khadgar is feeling more confident by the end. He heads into the bathroom for some last things, and then at long last he is ready. "So where are we going?" he asks, smelling freshly of eau de cologne and his hands in the casual chic thing he has ended up putting together.

To say that Lothar enjoys spending time with Khadgar would be the understatement of the century. He likes everything they do together—although more often than not it resolves into sex—and he especially loves it when he can take care of the younger man. Like right now. He tries to make Khadgar become surer by showering him with little kisses here and there. When the other looks downright presentable in the end, he nods in approval while dragging his jacket a little tighter around himself. There is a chill in Khadgar's apartment that fights the heater with abandon. "We're taking the bus to the subway, then ride that to the end of the line." He looks at his watch, "Alright, we're going to be a little late, but that isn't so bad. Taria probably took the kids sledging and needs to bathe them anyway, so we're good." He takes his own bag and slings it over his shoulder, then looks at Khadgar. "You look amazing." A gentle smile might ease what is left of the tension, "Let's go."

The bus is crowded with people doing last minute Christmas shopping that night, so they have to stand. Lothar doesn't mind the other's proximity though, and some of the regulars that usually take the bus with them roll their eyes at the sight, doing fake retching noises when they see how the older man nuzzles his head against Khadgar's. "Everything will be fine, I promise."

"Everything but some of these people," Khadgar huffs, because he is sure they aren't that bad and it's a bit immature to start making these noises. A few of them ignored Lothar during their rough patch, but that they sided with Khadgar doesn't mean that Khadgar gets to appreciate their jabs now. He pretends not to see them for the rest of their ride—even goes so far as to peck Lothar on the lips in challenge. His own duffel bag is chunky with clothing and presents. Khadgar is so much less prepared for this than he expected. He is more excited than he expected, too. He realizes he has no idea who Lothar's family really is, or what they look like. He is going to spend his Christmas with a couple of strangers and his handsome boyfriend, whose eyes today shine with something that has Khadgar mesmerized.

They end up at the largest villa he has seen this up and close in his life. The white shape almost disappears against the snow. The massive Christmas tree in the yard is completely stunning, likely fueled by neighbourhood peer pressure or by kids. Khadgar thinks he can actually hear songs coming from inside.

"I thought it was a cliche," he whispers in astonishment to Lothar just as the doorbell alerts the people inside of their presence.

"What is?" Lothar asks curiously while the bell rings. He doesn't have time to get an answer, though, because only seconds later, someone opens the door. His sister is dressed in a chic black top sparkling with grey glitter, on top of a deep red skirt and black stockings. She beams at Lothar, and her entire face lights up when she sees Khadgar. "Anduin, I'm so glad you could make it. And you must be Khadgar." She smiles at him and slips out of the warmth of the house, only to put her arms around the younger man. Lothar almost tells her to calm down with her joy, but then she hugs him too and drags them both into the warmth. "Come in, come in. It's so cold outside."

They need not be told twice. Khadgar's nose is red from the chill, and he sniffs even if he isn't coming down with a cold. "Hi," he says once they are all inside and warmth envelops them. The entryway is grand and tall, with a staircase connecting three floors of what he is sure must be grandeur. It is a beautiful house, with all the Home Alone resemblance that he just didn't think could actually be real. "You're," he looks over to Lothar, "Taria, isn't it? It's lovely to meet you. And wow, this house. I mean, Anduin told me about it, but it is so _big_." He is suddenly glad he didn't get to wear his Christmas sweater. It is at the bottom of his duffel bag, just in case he overdressed. Looking at all of this, that doesn't appear to be the case. "Can I put my bag here?" he asks, pointing to the base of the coat rack.

"Why don't you just bring it to the room you and Anduin are going to share?" Taria smiles sweetly. "You can go ahead and get comfortable in it for a few minutes. The kids are still bathing." Something like an idea must have flashed through her mind, because she suddenly looks at Khadgar with a grin that promises mischief. "Actually, brother dearest? Would you be a darling and help Llane take care of the two? They've asked about you in the last few days." 

Lothar is taking off his jacket and hangs it on the coat. "Really? Is that not some ploy to get Khadgar alone and bug him with questions?"

Taria puts a hand over her heart, "Of course not! I would never!" She grins. Although she and her brother look very differently, their smiles are the same. "Come on, I'm not so bad. I won't bite him." Lothar's eyebrow shoots up, but then he looks to Khadgar, a silent question in his eyes. "Would you mind if I spend a few minutes with them?"

"If I say yes, I'll have antagonized your family in the first few minutes," Khadgar answers honestly. He nods once, still working on getting his coat off with his bag by his feet. When he finishes putting the thing away, there is amusement in his eyes. "Go. If I can't handle your sister for a few minutes, the best time to figure that out is as soon as possible." _So we can spend the rest of Christmas tucked away in a bedroom._ Khadgar doesn't know Taria well enough to know if she'd appreciate the lightness in his words. But then half of him saying that is his nervousness and its proclivity for making him ramble.

Taria laughs at that. "He's cute _and_ funny. " 

Lothar blushes, but grins like an idiot as well. "Shut up, Taria."

"Go on, bug my children for me." Taria doesn't wait until Lothar says any more; she takes her brother's and Khadgar's bag in both hands, then walks up the staircase. Khadgar has no other choice but to follow if he wants to find their room. 

At the end of the hallway, like the rest of the house, lies a room magnificent in its grandeur. Taria leads Khadgar inside. She places both bags on the bed, only to turn around and drag the younger man into a tight embrace. Her head presses against his chest. "Thank you," she says, her voice full of emotion. "Thank you for taking him back. Thank you for being interested in him. Thank you for making him happy."

"Uh." It is too much for Khadgar to take all of it in. He stammers, awkwardly returning the hug. Taria's gratitude once again brings him back to when Lothar and he just started seeing each other, when his actions made Khadgar feel like there was something wrong. Something that would cast a shadow on the good thing they have; or perhaps something that makes Lothar think he isn't worthy of this. "I don't do it on purpose?" he tries, because what else can he say? "And he didn't make it easy. But I'm happy when I'm with him, so it's really nothing you should be thanking me for."

"Sorry, that was a bit impulsive." She sniffs and pulls away from him. "I just—he was devastated after his wife died, and then there was this guy he fell in love with after her death. He thinks I don't know about that, but I do." She smiles a bit, sweet and genuine. "He never could keep his secrets that well, even when we were kids. At least in my eyes." Taking Khadgar by the hand, she leads him to the bed and sits down with him. "I want to offer you my help. If something happens between you two, and Anduin behaves like a total dunderhead again, come to me. I will set him straight for you." She leans forward. "I don't want to pressure you, but you're the first serious relationship he's had in decades. I want him to be happy, you know?"

Just like that, without being aware of what she does, Taria puts Khadgar at ease whereas Lothar struggles to. His problems are something that has been going on for a while then—and something only as alarming as the self-consciousness itself. No quirks, just Lothar being an idiot. 

"We've only been seeing each other for a couple of months," Khadgar admits. "I'm serious about him. He hasn't gotten himself into any trouble since that one time. Which I'm sure," he wriggles his nose and says with absolute certainty, "he has told you about. Or you know. At any rate," he isn't going to go into that,"he's a sweetheart." Khadgar also can't keep his hands off him whenever they are in the same room; it helps that Lothar is really hot, too. "He's told me a lot about his family. Can you introduce me to everyone?"

Taria continues to smile, her hand coming up to stroke the side of Khadgar's cheek. "You're so handsome," she says softly, "and you're totally his type. His wife was a brunette with brown eyes, as well." She comes closer to his face, "Although there is a hint of green in them. So beautiful. I wish you and I were single, so that I could have a chance with you." She sighs, grumbles something about ‘Anduin' and ‘always getting the cutest', then stands up and straightens her skirt. It falls around her legs flawlessly. "Anyway, we should probably get down, or your boyfriend will barge in and demand to know if I left you alive or not. The kids should be finished with their bath by now, anyway."

And there it is, Khadgar thinks. The weirdness that Lothar warned him for. The slightly-too-forward appeal. He has come prepared, but he still has to take a second before owlish blinking changes into soft laughter, and he almost mentions that he really only likes guys, and only Lothar right now. That Khadgar is fiercely loyal to someone, once he connects. But that would be lame, as well as open himself up for a whole new set of chances to embarrass him. He rearranges the duffel bag idly on the bed, puts Lothar's next to it, and wriggles his toes into the plush carpet. "Right. Lead the way."

Khadgar allows Taria to lead him into the old French colonial kitchen, then the living room that looks like it belongs in a castle—tastefully so. He is relieved when he finds Lothar. "We've got a massive bed!" he boasts. "It's ridiculous. I bet we could jump on it and nobody would hear it." One of those fancy and generally really expensive foam mattresses with a solid bedframe around it; not the creaky mess that is his own bed.

"We ‘ll try it out later," Lothar says without thinking. 

He blushes when Taria bursts out laughing, holding her side while Lothar's best friend and brother-in-law Llane enters the room. He wears a suit like always these days. "Hello Anduin. I see that you're trying to kill your sister once again?" 

A deeper shade of red blooms on Lothar's cheeks. He turns around, crossing his arms over his chest. Leave it to Llane to make fun of him. "I just said something without thinking," he murmured, and is saved in the next second by Adariall and Varian running towards him only to throw themselves at their uncle. 

Adariall sees Khadgar and comes to him, "Is that your boyfriend, Uncle An?" She asks and looks at the younger man. "He's cute."

Lothar wants a hole to open and swallow him. How his entire family is out to get him is beyond him.

Khadgar wants to come up with an excuse to pull him out of the room and hold him close, until he is sure Lothar can take the onslaught. With two kids at his lover's legs however, Lothar isn't going anywhere. "Hello," he nods, and sticks out a hand. He actually introduces himself to the kids first, so formally that he is sure the little rascal who got him and Lothar to go out the first time is bound to dissolve into cackles, and then extends the courtesy on a more serious level to Llane. "Khadgar. It's nice to meet you." Now that he has introduced himself somewhat decently to everyone, he thinks the worst is behind him.

Then the doorbell rings. Taria excuses herself to get it, and soon after comes back with a dishevelled and very cold looking Callan. So far, Lothar hasn't had the time or the energy to introduce his son to his boyfriend, and realizes this only now. Especially since Callan has seen Khadgar in their apartment before. "Hey, Callan," he greets his son, trying to divert his attention from the elephant in the room. 

In a chorus, Adariall and Varian echo him, "Hey, Callan!"

For reasons Khadgar does not know himself, Khadgar immediately moves behind Lothar and hides behind his frame at the mention. Lothar's family, he can handle, but Callan is Lothar's _son_ , and someone he has met before; the reason, quite possibly, for Lothar's ill-timed worries about their age difference, and the subsequent lie that he didn't like Khadgar. To Khadgar, Callan spells trouble. He is someone whose permission Khadgar _wants_ , but not one he fears he is likely to get. And one he is mildly hostile towards, because Callan's presence makes it all too easy for Lothar to relapse into his insecurities.

They haven't told him _he_ was coming.

Lothar is surprised at first, but then he remembers Callan's and Khadgar's last encounter, after which started weeks of agony. Fuck, Khadgar must be terrified for it to happen again.

Meanwhile, Callan takes note of the younger man behind his father and figures it all out on his own. Aunt Taria told him that his father would bring a special friend, but she wouldn't reveal anything else. Whenever she mentioned it, it was always Lothar's tale to tell. And Callan has waited weeks for his father to spill the beans about where he goes at night when he thinks Callan is asleep already, or where he comes from when he sneaks back into the apartment in the morning. Callan isn't stupid, thank you very much. "Hello," he says a little cooly, not knowing how to really approach the younger man, "I've seen you before. You're Khadgar, right?" The name stuck with him since Callan had wondered where it derives from. It's an unusual name. "We saw each other a few weeks ago. I'm Callan."

"Yeah." Khadgar feels cornered among strangers, in a house too far away from where he lives. He can't leave now, when it's only hours before Christmas Eve. So he jams his hands into his pockets, purses his lips and uncomfortably adds, "Hi." Callan doesn't seem to have expected him. As much as a surprise it is for Khadgar to see him here, the feeling seems mutual. Which means that Lothar has not told his son. Khadgar feels himself grow smaller by the second. 

He wants to shout at Lothar, for putting him in this situation; for not preparing him for this. He also wants to scream because there would have been no reason not to travel together; they have arrived here barely ten minutes before Callan showed up. And he wants, most of all, to have it not turn into trouble. "Your dad asked if I wanted to come," he says, making an excuse just like he did that night. "I told him I had no family to visit during Christmas, and he invited me over." He bites his lip; nods. "He's a good friend."

"Who stays the night?" Callan quips, and looks at his father. "You could've told me, you know? I'm not stupid." He sees how uncomfortable Khadgar looks and feels as if Khadgar is just as surprised as he is. "And you didn't tell him I would come, now did you?"

"Well, I thought—" Lothar starts.

Callan interrupts him. "Yes, you thought. You assumed again. Just like you always do!" Callan's voice gets louder. "Jesus fucking Christ, when will you finally learn to talk to me?!"

"Callan!" Taria says, "There are children here!"

Callan groans, his annoyance palpable. "It's always like this. You don't tell me anything and then you act as if I am the bad guy by not being okay with things! You've been doing it my entire life and I'm so sick of it!"

Llane steps forward. "Hallway," he says. "You two, with me." Christmas hasn't even begun, and he won't let this be messed up; not before at least dinner. Taria has been doing her utmost best for it. He has had to help out for two whole hours. So not if he can help it.

The door separating the hall from the living room shuts with a finality. Llane's hand rests on the handle still. "Lothar," he starts. "Callan. I want to have a good evening with friends and family tonight. But you clearly have something to work out. So Lothar, explain why you haven't told your son? Callan, let him talk. You will have your turn when he is done. We work this out right now."

Back in the living room, Taria sighs loudly and goes to the kitchen. A machine roars, and she comes out with two steaming mugs of coffee. One of them she gives to Khadgar, while the other is put on the coffee table. "Khadgar, please have a seat. This is going to take a while if my brother doesn't open his mouth."

Lothar swallows and crosses his arms over his chest. He feels oddly vulnerable, and only Llane's strict gaze keeps him there. Otherwise he'd run. He hates emotional stuff like this. "I didn't—" He interrupts himself before he begins anew. "I didn't think you'd be here, to be honest. You've been so distant to me lately, even before I and Khadgar—" he takes a deep breath, and then spits it out, "— before Khadgar and I got together. He is my boyfriend, Callan, and I like him very much. And I just thought…I thought you would completely turn your back on me when I'd tell you. I mean, who wants to have a bisexual man for a father?" He drags a hand through his hair, his turtleneck suddenly feeling like a collar around his neck. "And I told you about this annual dinner, but you didn't even respond to me. I thought you weren't interested to spend Christmas with the family— with _me_. Shouldn't have done that, sorry."

It is more than what Llane can usually get Lothar to spill, although he has to refrain from rolling his eyes when he hears the conclusions his friend has been drawing on his own. Displaying any form of an opinion, here, would be counterproductive. And part of him is proud of Lothar for not simply shutting down. "Callan?" he encourages his nephew.

Callan wants to bang his head against the wall— _pardon_ , he wants to take his father's head and bang it against the wall until he finally stops doubting his own self-worth. "Dad," he groans, "sometimes you are the most stupidest person I've ever seen. Dammit, why the hell do you always assume the worst when someone does not have the time? I mean, I have my exams coming up soon, and on top of that I just got a girlfriend for the first time in my life and am a bit busy…exploring our life together, if you know what I mean. This doesn't mean that I love you any less as my father, it just means that my current priorities are different." 

But as he says it, he realizes that this must also have been why his father hasn't told him anything. Having been so high on his happiness, Lothar must have not wanted anything to ruin it, least of all his son. The last thing he has left from his dead wife. Callan suddenly feels like shit for having been so rude to his father. He surges forward. "Fuck, Dad, I'm sorry I yelled at you. And I'm sorry that I haven't told you about Garona before." He hugs Lothar tightly.

"I'm sorry, too." Lothar takes a moment to return the hug, startled as he is. Lothars don't usually hug. "So sorry. I thought you would hate me for having a boyfriend."

"Dad, let's skip the apologies and go straight to forgiving, alright?" Callan intensifies his grip. 

Lothar chokes with laughter, and presses himself against his son, only to pull away and look at him with wide eyes. "Garona? You're dating Garona? Didn't she beat you up once?"

Callan goes red. "Yes."

"You're dating a girl who beat you up once?" Now Llane can't keep his mouth shut. "Well, your aunt would love _her_." 

The fight is over before it even began, which is new. He expected a couple of days of avoiding each other, leaving at last with a lot of unspoken frustrations, but he has barely had to do anything. If making Lothar speak is Khadgar's influence, then he is doubly grateful; but Llane won't jump to conclusions. 

He pats their backs and sighs, grateful for this quick resolution. "You know, I'm pretty sure that if you two agreed on it, there is food enough to invite this Garona over. I mean, if you want to. The offer is on the table." He slides out of the hallway and back into the living room, where the horrified expression on Taria's face tells him just how much she expected for this to take ages, too. He shakes his head, and she relaxes. The Lothars are a stubborn patch.

Khadgar looks between them unhelpfully. "Is everything okay?" he asks. He really still doesn't want to face Callan, who must by now have come to see Khadgar as an instigator of these kinds of uncomfortable situations, and he hides behind his mug while he waits for whatever outcome there will be. "They're both staying, right?" he asks. Because even if Callan and he are not the best of friends, Khadgar would hate for himself to be the reason Lothar's son takes off—or worse, Lothar himself.

Finally, Lothar and Callan break apart. The older ruffles his son's hair, who cries in indignation, "Dad! Stop that!," before the both of them return to the living room. While Callan goes to his aunt and asks if they can invite Garona on a whim as well, Lothar goes to Khadgar and gently taps his shoulder. "Khadgar, can I talk to you for a minute?" 

The younger man complies and follows him out into the hallway. Lothar gently closes the door. He takes a deep breath. "I wanted to apologize to you as well. I didn't tell Callan about you, and I didn't tell you that he would be here. I'm an idiot, sorry. I was…I think I wasn't ready to tell him yet. I'm sorry."

Though disappointed at the news, Khadgar accepts it. Lothar is talking to him. He is being honest, and for that he can't fault him. "It's alright. I'm sorry that by us both being here, you got into this situation. Do you want to get out of here? I mean, we can catch a movie, or since your son is here, that means I could sleep over at your place for a change." It does not have to be a terrible Christmas. Lothar wasn't ready and from what Khadgar has gathered, he was forced to tell it anyway. Khadgar can understand if Lothar would rather not be here tonight. "Does he know? Should I go say something to him? Do you want me to wait a while longer?" He draws closer and softly kisses his boyfriend. "It's okay. We've got time. I can wait until you're ready."

"Don't worry," Lothar's teeth nibble lightly at those plush lips before hugging him tightly. "I told him. And he actually revealed to me that he is dating someone, too." His hand comes to rest on Khadgar's cheek and strokes it. "I really, really want to have sex with you in that huge bed. I've slept in it a few times. It's kind of my regular room here. It is amazing. But if you want to go to my place, I wouldn't mind that either. I just want to spend Christmas with you, Khadgar. You're…important to me."

Khadgar snorts. "The bed is tempting. And you saying that. I just don't want things to be uncomfortable. Did Callan accept it? Does he need time? Do _you_ need time? Because I am more than prepared to just visit your family some other weekend if just for that bed, without having your son here." He wiggles his nose. "It's about what makes you comfortable, okay? Just, if we're going, I've got a ton of thrift store trinkets for the kids that you need to let me give first. Okay?"

"I know, Khadgar, I know," Lothar sighs deeply, "But I have to face my fears and uncomfortable truths for once in my life." His lips find Khadgar's once more and he licks the younger man's, then places his mouth on Khadgar's pulse, "And you being with me helps a lot, too."

"Face your fears on Christmas Eve?" Khadgar murmurs—and is distracted. He pulls away before this can turn into anything. There are kids in the other room, and Lothar is known to have quite an effect on Khadgar's physical state. "After dinner, love," he blushes. "Unless dinner is in an hour. But I don't think it would be very polite."

Lothar's heart beats in his chest when Khadgar says that one word. Even as a term of endearment, it makes his insides go warm and tingly. Lothar can feel his ears and cheeks redden with pleasure. He can't stop himself from rubbing his neck and grinning like a fool. "After dinner. It is in a few minutes." He doesn't know if Khadgar even realizes he said it. "I will take you up on that promise."

Khadgar shakes his head with affection. He doesn't know why, but Lothar is being exceptionally adorable, the way he acts. Khadgar wishes he could excuse himself and fling himself on top of that bed. But there are kids, and family, and going up after dinner will grant them the excuse of having to let their food settle. In the meantime, it is probably best not to tempt fate. So Khadgar extracts himself. "If you are okay with it," he asks, "I think I'd like to properly talk to Callan? I mean, I've got some white lies to apologise for, now that he knows, but if he doesn't want to talk about that yet, I just really," he bites his lip, "want to clear up the weirdness. Okay?"

Just as he finishes his sentence, the doorbell alerts them to their last expected guest. Khadgar blinks up at a guy around Lothar's age with long wavy hair and the air of a, for lack of a better description, stoner hippie.

"Ah, at last!" Llane walks past them to greet the man with a jovial hug. "Medivh. Punctual to the minute. Welcome, friend!" 

The clock strikes five o'clock.

There are other things Lothar would rather be doing. But he can already smell Taria's delicious cooking, and Medivh has just arrived. He hasn't seen his friend in years. "Khadgar," he steps aside, "this is Medivh, one of mine and Llane's closest friends." He finds the other man, clasps his hand in a shake, then hugs the stranger. "Long time no see," Lothar grins, "How have you been?" Clapping him on the back once, he looks towards Khadgar. "I'd like you to meet my boyfriend." If he says it nervously, it is because this means something to him.

Medivh looks Khadgar over. "He's rather young," he points out with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer, as his long coat slides off his shoulders and finds a spot at the coat rack. Everything he does, he does with grace. "Good for you, old friend. Well," and he extends a hand, "nice to meet you, young new friend."

Khadgar doesn't know how to react. Is there at all a proper way to respond? He nods mutely, and disappears into the living room as fast as the opportunity presents itself. Minutes later, when Callan has agreed to go for a walk, the three friends are still catching up in the hallway. It isn't often that Khadgar gets to see Lothar so in his element with others. It lights him up from top to bottom.

Lothar watches how his son and his boyfriend leave the house to take a walk. His gaze lingers on the door. "I hope they're going to be alright."

* * *

Callan looks at Khadgar with curiosity as he walks. He doesn't know what to think of the younger man. How did this man and his father meet? How did they start their relationship? And most importantly; who tops? Callan doesn't know why, but his mind burns with curiosity as to his father's sex life, even if he thinks he is better off not knowing. "So…do you and my dad do it already?" He asks it with all the bluntness he can muster up.

Of every possible question, it is the most forward one. Having had no way of building up to that, Khadgar flounders. He has an answer—it's not a hard question—but he struggles with finding the best way to frame it. Snow is falling down around them, giving him the chance to hide underneath his hood for a bit. But eventually Khadgar has to answer. 

"Yes," he says, straightforward like the question has been. "I'll be honest with you, Callan. I haven't really been honest with you before, so ask me what you want before we get back," before any of the others can meddle and abuse the privilege to embarrass Lothar, "and I'll answer you honestly." He smiles softly. "Honestly. I owe you that much. So ask only what you think you're okay with hearing. We got off on the wrong foot before. Sorry for that. Your dad wasn't ready to tell, and I didn't want to say it for him."

Callan nods. They stop for a moment to talk, which gives him the time to bend down and take a handful of snow from the ground, only to press it into a tight sliver of white. Instead of throwing it, though, he just breaks it apart. "My dad is like that more often than not. Overthinking something to the point where he doesn't see any other option than flight." He stands up again, looking at Khadgar in curiosity. It feels as if his Dad's boyfriend is a puzzle he needs to figure out, but he doesn't know what questions to ask. So he goes for another one that is fairly easy, "How did you two meet?"

And so he hears about the time Khadgar offered his father his heat pads on the bus. Khadgar doesn't mince it; he tells exactly how blunt they have been to each other, including the period when Khadgar downright ignored him. He leaves out the details of the first time they slept together, and he doesn't address all the other times. But he tells Callan about the graduation ceremony, when they sort of became official. He watches the snow, and for the first time, Khadgar feels comfortable around his boyfriend's son. "So what about you?" he asks. "What do you do?" Khadgar wants to know the person Callan is. It might also, he thinks, help understand parts about Lothar.

"I study engineering at university," Callan shrugs. It is nothing awesome. He simply likes to figure out how things work, and machines are not nearly as complicated as humans. Seems like father and son are more alike than they know. "It's where I met my current girlfriend. I…might be to blame for this entire mess with Dad, too. I pretty much ignored him while figuring out my own relationship. Different priorities." He sighs and kicks some snow away. The motion makes him feel like a child again, "I hope he one day gets over his issues. I know where most of them come from, since Aunt Taria told me. She said there was this one guy, who-" The younger man stops and looks at Khadgar, "Has he told you about him yet?" he asks with something akin to dread in his voice.

"Yeah," nods Khadgar. "I heard. Not in detail. Just…enough." He recalls how much Lothar tried to please him in the beginning, and it still bothers him that the guy who came before him is largely to blame for this mess. He doesn't want to talk about the subject, and focuses on Callan's most important of things in his life right now. "I heard your girlfriend is coming over later? What is she like?"

Perhaps it is the way Khadgar phrases his question, but Callan realizes that Khadgar doesn't want to talk about _that man_. He lets the topic slide, grining a little sheepishly. "She's awesome. I mean, she's really tough and such, but she has her sweet sides. And she has a mean right hook, jeez. And she is super good with mechanics. She can dismantle a motor and then rebuild it without even looking at it. And her hair…I just love to run my fingers through it, and—" Callan interrupts himself when he realizes he is rambling, but doesn't say sorry. He really, really likes Garona and can usually not keep quiet about her for long.

It doesn't bother Khadgar in the slightest. In fact, it sort of draws a parallel that he won't point out for the sake of keeping Callan a friend. Lothar hasn't seen Callan's girlfriend either; today will be the day they both get to meet the other's partner. He allows Callan's topic to stray, and talks about anything that is safe; how beautiful the snow is, and how big the house. In the end, they may not have talked about meaningful stuff, but neither is there something making things uncomfortable between them.

By the time they get back, dinner is almost ready. It smells divine. Callan's girlfriend must not be able to make it on time, so they find Llane in the middle of a plea to wait half an hour more, just as Khadgar takes off his coat and shakes off his shoes. He smiles once more at Callan, before joining the rest.

While Callan is still working on his own shoes, Lothar manages to sneak up on Khadgar from behind. He throws his arms around him, dragging the younger man close. "Hey, handsome," he nuzzles. Ever since having talked about his problems, with all of his family knowing about Khadgar at last, Lothar feels unbelievable happy. "I know it sounds cheesy, but I missed you."

Khadgar, who isn't used to this side of Lothar, flails violently before finally understanding what is going on. "Anduin!" he gasps, now laughing. The difference is striking; rarely has Lothar been this happy and this abundant about it. "I'm here now," he says. "Not leaving you all night." When Callan next to him flusters, he quickly adds, "And day."

Lothar grins and presses a kiss against Khadgar's hair. "I can't wait until tonight." His voice is purring and Callan blushes violently when he hears his father talk like this. With big steps he's gone from their side and into the living room. Lothar just shakes his head before he lets Khadgar go from his arms. "He will have to get used to this. Just as I will probably have to get used to him making innuendos about his girlfriend." He wants to say more, but in that moment, the doorbell announces another visitor and this time it's Taria running to the door like an eager puppy. She opens it, and beams at the young woman standing in front of it, "You must be Garona!"

Khadgar straightens up in Lothar's embrace. He knows that name—and it rather eerily matches Callan's earlier description. It would be too much of a coincidence. Turning around in Lothar's arms, he tugs him along. "Come on, we're going to check out your son's girl."

And sure as day, the girl in the doorway is her. His best friend during that misguided year when he thought he wanted to join the police force. "You!" he laughs. They have fallen out of touch years ago, but he is sure that their friendship can take that. "Oh god, hi Rona!"

That Khadgar is tagging him along comes as a surprise to Lothar, but not as much as the fact that his lover seems to know his son's girlfriend. Thus he watches as Callan hugs his girlfriend, who is a really nice looking woman with long dark hair and dark skin, before he sees her recognize his boyfriend. If he didn't know this girl was Callan's girlfriend, he'd be jealous of that instant connection. As it is, he has nothing to worry about.

Khadgar waits for Callan before he and Garona grin at each other. How long has it been? "You've gained muscle," he croaks when she squeezes him into a hug. 

"And you lost it!" she laughs. "Khadgar! Callan didn't mention anyone like you. I would have known." 

Which is how Khadgar ends up extracting himself and pulling forward Lothar. He rather proudly hooks his thumb through a belt loop on Lothar's other hip. "Meet my boyfriend." He shares a look with Callan, offering him the chance to let Garona say hi to Lothar, before telling her that Lothar is also her boyfriend's father, which takes the edge off things, or rather dissolves it into laughter.

When they finally retreat into the living room, it doesn't take much longer to dinner being served. Their time consists of practically everyone wanting to talk to everyone, except for the kids; they prefer to run around and have their dessert first. Dinner is far from the quiet event that Khadgar expected. It is a whirlwind, with everything seemingly happening at the same time; it is warm, and it is amazing. He feels a part of something bigger tonight. It is, he realizes, family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas from the both of us!


	7. Chapter 7

When he sinks into the sheets of the large bed at last, it is past seven and his stomach is ready to burst. " _Finally_ ," he breathes out.

Lothar is just as full as Khadgar. He has had to fend off his niece and nephew for the entire evening, dealt with Medivh's sassy comments and Taria's knowing smirks, and he is exhausted. Not enough, though, to pass up on the one thing on his mind all evening; all day.

Sitting down next to Khadgar, Lothar puts his hand into his pocket and fumbles the key within, before he leans down. "Hey, Khadgar," he murmurs gently. His heart beats with nervousness and anticipation, "I have a gift for you. Close your eyes." When the younger man does it, he takes Khadgar's hand, pulls his other out of the pocket and places the key gently in Khadgar's open hand, then closes it. "Merry Christmas. I know it is a day early, but I wanted to give this to you in private."

Not expecting anything, Khadgar thinks that this is the moment where Lothar will find his way on top of him and woo him into something they can both handle—a hand job at best. He needs a few more minutes before he is up for that, but things are negotiable. So the key, which is still warm to the touch from having been in Lothar's pocket all day, is confusing. And then Khadgar lights up—before his brows furrow again. His curiosity is almost adorable; he wants to be happy about this, but he has no idea what he is looking at. "What's it from?" he asks, his eyes aglow.

"It's—" Lothar swallows, "It's a key to my apartment. So you can come over whenever you want, you know?" He is nervous that it will be too fast for Khadgar, that the pace of their relationship is progressing too swiftly. After all, Khadgar has just met his son, his family and an old friend of his. Perhaps the timing is not right.

But Lothar also wants this. He wants this so badly he can almost taste it on his tongue. He wants Khadgar to know that the younger man is not just a fling for him but, if he wants to, can become a permanent fixture in Lothar's life. And there is nothing the older man would see more gladly than for Khadgar to take his gift and keep it near his heart. Thus he waits for a reaction, not allowing his brain to jump to conclusions. Every time a thought strays, he thinks of the beautiful young man next to him in the bed, and his heart stutters.

"It's a—" The bed makes not a sound when Khadgar rolls onto his side to watch his boyfriend. Even with his son living in the same house, Lothar offers him this. There has been a reason why Khadgar has only stayed overnight at Lothar's place once, and that is Callan. So they make do with Khadgar's horribly cramped apartment, which is too cold especially during days like today, with snow creating a thick blanket outside. "Are you sure?" he asks very carefully. But Khadgar is an open book, and the joy that he is trying to contain filters through. "I'll make you a copy too. For when we really need some privacy. It's—thank you, it is—I didn't expect this! You're really okay with me sneaking in to leech on your warmth? There will come a time when you'll regret this. But _thank you_. It is perfect." More self-aware now, he admits, "I got you a present too, but it's not nearly as wonderful as this."

"I'm always okay with you leeching my warmth." Lothar sinks back and lies on his side as well, his gaze on Khadgar, soft as a caress. He wants nothing more than to drag the younger man towards him and kiss him senseless, then start the real fun between them, but he is still far too content and full from dinner to really move much. His hand, however, comes to rest on Khadgar's hip, at least partially initiating contact between them. He smiles, bright and illuminating, "You're welcome, Khadgar. And it's alright, really. Everything you could give me will be wonderful." Finally he makes himself nudge over to Khadgar only to capture the younger man's lips in a sweet kiss.

Khadgar smiles nervously. "Yes, well, all the decent gifts are downstairs in the pile of presents." Does he really want to admit that he got himself officially tested for his boyfriend, after just having gotten something so genuine and heartfelt? He has thoughtful presents, of course; this one is the only one meant to be given when it is just the two of them. It was meant, he feels ashamed of it now, to be the start of a night of fun. Khadgar trusts Lothar, but he wants to tell Lothar that he is serious about them. That they should really start ditching the condom. "It's—it's kind of crass," he admits.

"Crass?" Lothar edges ever closer towards his young lover until their legs are touching. His fingers start to stroke Khadgar's lithe body up and down, and he really wishes the other was naked already. There are so many naughty things he wants to do with the younger man that he almost blushes just thinking about it. "I don't think there can be anything more crass than what I would like to be doing to you right now," he grins, his eyes alive with a certain mischief, "Or are you talking about sex? Trying a new position, maybe?"

Khadgar rolls his eyes fondly. "I'm always up for trying something. And how many have we done already?" They don't have to wait for Christmas just to go for a new position; at least not in Khadgar's books. He shivers despite the fullness of his belly. Oh, Khadgar wants this. He just needs his body to cooperate. Maybe that hand job would not be such a bad idea. Gathering his strength, he closes his eyes and blindly searches for a kiss. "I got tested," he murmurs. "So we could stop using a condom." He quite hated doing it; even at age twenty-four, Khadgar has been embarrassed to bring it up to a doctor. It is worth it, he thinks, and that has been his mantra for half a day before finally going. "Like I said. Kind of crass."

The information gives Lothar pause. As he continues his ministrations. he doesn't at first know what to think. Thoughts like ‘what did he do before I came along?' fly through his head. But does it really matter? Khadgar is his now, and Lothar shouldn't let that go to waste. "It's not crass, it's perfect," he therefore whispers against Khadgar's lips, "Do you have any idea how long I've wanted to fill you with my come? To shoot inside you?" God, he loves to talk dirty to his boyfriend and get him all hot and flustered.

"…I would have done this much sooner if I knew you were going to say stuff like that." Khadgar's thoughts had been on Lothar being able to feel more. But this, this is a very welcome added effect. It pushes him forward into a kiss that is anything but chaste. "I mean, it's definitely crass," he keeps talking hotly in between kisses. "I just—I want you. All of you. I don't think lightly about this, you know." He's only really slept with one other guy without a condom ages ago, and that had been a mistake that had left him with months of agony. So even if it is a formality, the fact that he is allowing Lothar is saying a lot.

Lothar gets the message. This is a big deal for Khadgar, and Lothar feels himself swell with this one certain emotion that he isn't ready to decipher just yet. But it is there, and it feels wonderful, filling him from head to toe, making his skin tingle wherever the younger man happens to touch him. His need grows, as does his erection, especially when he imagines what he can do to the younger man if they fuck without protection, and how it would feel. But he wants to make sure that Khadgar is comfortable with this, as well. "I got tested at my checkup this year," he murmurs, placing small kisses along Khadgar's jaw. "It was in October. Have to do it regularly since I work with kids. Not that I would accidentally infect them, you know?"

This brings out a snort; Lothar's choice of words is unfortunate. "I'm still really full," Khadgar admits, "but I'm sure that if we took things slow, we'll manage." He has no idea how long he's got until the people downstairs expect them to return—if they expect them at all. He'd rather not waste this chance. And Lothar beaming with happiness the way he has all evening has rather made Khadgar want him to himself. He carefully moves his leg until it wraps around Lothar's hip, then tugs him closer with his hands. "You're the best thing that happened to me this year," he admits. "I hope to say the same to you next year."

"You are the best thing to happen to me, too." Lothar means that with every fiber of his being. He sometimes wants to kick himself in the head for taking so long to see the younger man as anything but a nuisance, but he is happy with what he finally has. Which is that gorgeous man beneath him. Lothar wants to cry from happiness. Instead his lips seek the other man's and drag him into a kiss that is just tethering on the edge of heating up. It leaves him a little breathless and in want of more, but he is rather stuffed from dinner as well. Perhaps they really ought to take this slow, so that both of them can enjoy it to the fullest. Lothar doesn't care if people are waiting for them downstairs, or expect them to return; he currently has only one thing on his mind, and that is getting this handsome creature beneath him out of its clothes and under the blanket.

He starts by unbuttoning their pants. The effect is especially nice; Lothar himself ate way too much much, too. Afterwards, he sits up a little and pulls the turtleneck over his head, revealing one of his white t-shirts beneath that he just knows Khadgar loves seeing on him for accentuating his figure and muscles in all the right places. Surging downward, he captures the younger man in a sweet kiss. "Let me do all the work, sweetie. You just relax."

Khadgar makes a pleased sound and quite unashamedly parts his legs for Lothar. The bed _is_ very comfortable, and fluffy, and most of all, it is big. It is nothing like his cramped bed that has them squeezing together after sex, if they both want to stay abed as they sleep. The shower too is less than ideal. The couch, well, the couch has its own limitations. Khadgar hasn't ever quite had the luxury that he finds himself basking in now. He puts the key on the nightstand with care, before quite literally dropping his hands above his head. The only part of him that communicates with Lothar are his eyes, which are alive with lust and love alike. "What will you do to me tonight?" he asks. It is a thing he has come to love, being told what his boyfriend has in store for him.

Lothar crawls to Khadgar and kisses the spot beneath his ear as he rubs himself against the younger man. "I want to taste you tonight, all of you," he purrs huskily. "I want to take your beautiful hard cock into my mouth and swallow you down until the head hits the back of my throat. And afterwards, when you've almost come, I'm gonna make you edge your orgasm until I can plunge my tongue into your hole." He grins dirtily, "How does that sound?"

"Like you should get on that," Khadgar nods with urgency, clearly affected. His body is moving against Lothar's. Slow undulations, barely noticeable except that it makes him look like a man who desires, who _wants_ , push up against his lover. His stomach is settling, and he thanks Taria for keeping the dessert for later. He would have been useless otherwise.

He doesn't want to really talk dirty and have a lust-filled go tonight though. They can always do that in the morning. It's Christmas Eve, and he wants it to be special. So he whispers against Lothar's ear, with a quiver of nervousness, "When you have done all that, you should make love to me."

Oh, he knows how old-fashioned it sounds. Khadgar's cheeks warm simply from asking it. He is living the Christmas cliches today. But there is no denying that he wants to.

Lothar smiles gently before his lips seek out the younger man's, draw them into a heated kiss. Khadgar wants it slow and sensual tonight, he wants to be made love to? The older man is okay with that. More than okay in fact. His entire body tingles from Khadgar's use of that one word, and his emotions mesh together until he can't feel anything but a warm feeling when he looks at his boyfriend. "Okay. Just relax and enjoy. I want to make you so happy, Khadgar," he breaths it sensually, before he starts kissing the man beneath him, first slowly and sweetly, then more heatedly and with more passion. He keeps it light though, like a flame just strong enough to make the pot simmer. While he kisses his young lover heatedly, his hands become constant wanderers, stroking clothes and skin alike, only to sneak beneath the hem of Khadgar's shirt.

It is with that same languid pace that Khadgar allows Lothar to take off his shirt, and the same pace at which he approves every inch revealed as he returns the favor. Bit by bit, his skin grows hotter, his breathing close to feverish. But never there; never frantic. "That feels so good," he whispers. If he isn't moaning, it is because he wants this to be private. Instead Khadgar guides with little gasps and hitches in his breath, or a curl of his hips; an involuntary action.

And by all that is mighty, Lothar looks and feels amazing. He does his best, and the result leaves Khadgar overwhelmed with a rush of emotion.

Lothar parts from his shirt easily. The feeling of pressing his chest against Khadgar's is a rush he does not want to miss. His hands slowly wander lower, one sneaking into Khadgar's opened pants to grasp a clothed erection gently, while his tongue licks a wet pattern into Khadgar's skin, wandering to the younger man's nipples. Slowly, so as to drive his young lover mad with want, he circles around the right one, then presses the flat of his tongue against the small bud. He uses his teeth, too, lightly touching them against an erect nipple. His mouth changes to the over side and repeats the process there. All the while, his hand in Khadgar's pants makes small movements, jerking lightly to get Khadgar completely hard for him.

"Lothar?" croaks Khadgar. His own hands have begun their path, encouraging Lothar all the way. "I think you should really, really take off your pants now. And mine, while you're at it." He needs more than this. Lifting his hips is a bit tricky, because his stomach muscles are uncooperative. He tries it for a few seconds, then groans and drops back to the bed. He smiles uncertainly. Nervously. "I want to feel you in me, Anduin."

"Sure," Lothar pulls up, slips from the bed and pulls of his pants and underwear in one go. He does the same for Khadgar, and delights in the way his lover looks lying in those nice sheets. He crawls atop him, bucks against him once, before he kisses Khadgar carefully. Then he goes down that lithe body, kissing his way towards his price, and finally reaches the younger man's aching member, kisses the head. He licks it, then relaxes his throat before he sinks it in, ignoring his gag reflex to swallow and caress that hard cock while his hands find Khadgar's balls and squeeze them gently.

It never, never grows old. A startled sound has Khadgar suppressing whatever noise he will make next into the palm of his hand. As Lothar likes to hear him, Khadgar has become used to being more vocal than he can now be. His legs pull up as his back arches. Still, he whimpers. The fact that there are people downstairs makes it doubly hard for him—but also just as exciting. "Look at me," he coaxes. Khadgar's hands tuck under Lothar's chin. "I love you so much."

All movement ceases. Khadgar's cock slips from Lothar's mouth as the latter goes slack in shock. His gaze burns into Khadgar's eyes, unblinking, his heart beating madly in his chest. He crawls up to the younger man's face until their faces are only inches apart, halting his breath, "Khadgar," he says. His voice is shaking. "Say that again. _Please_."

"I—" Khadgar stammers, both surprised and nervous because of what he is saying; what Lothar will think of it. "I love you." He bites his lip and says it again. "I love you." He doesn't expect it back just yet, he just wants Lothar to know. To convey that, he presses a finger against Lothar's mouth, hushing him. "It feels right when I'm with you."

To say that Lothar is a little overwhelmed is an understanding; he quivers, doesn't know what to think, doesn't know what to say. He understands that he is not required to say it back. Is he ready for this? He isn't sure, yet he only knows one thing: he wants to kiss Khadgar senseless. Thus he descends his lips upon the younger man's mouth, murmurs, "Thank you", softly while tears suddenly spill from his eyes.

It takes Khadgar a few breaths to find that his lover is crying. "Hey," he says nervously, "it's alright, isn't it?" He can only hope that they are happy tears; to ask is not an option, though Lothar isn't pulling away either, so they must be. "Too soon?" He offers apologetic kisses to calm the other down.

"No—I mean yes!" Lothar sits up a little and wipes the tears away while a small smile tugs at his lips. He feels so happy that he could burst. There is a person who loves him, just like that, for being himself. He has tried so many times to fit in, to be part of something that could become beautiful, but never was it good, because changing himself completely did not appeal. Now though, he has found a young man who desires him just as he is. New tears come to his eyes, and he lets them out, heaving a deep breath, "Sorry, Khadgar, give me a minute." His tongue moistens his dry lips, "I'm so fucking happy right now, you wouldn't believe."

He waits shortly, then crawls down his lover's body again to slowly continue where he left off. His tongue finds Khadgar's hard erection and soon enough it is in his mouth again, hot and pulsating, while his fingers tease the younger man's puckered hole.

Relief washes over Khadgar, when he knows that admitting hasn't unintentionally constricted Lothar's world around him, made him recoil into a fear of commitment that could have messed up the beautiful thing between them. For a moment Khadgar feared it. Tears are appearing in the corners of his own eyes when Lothar picks up where he stopped. Oh, he could whisper ‘I love you' to him a thousand times. And maybe he does, but they are translated into revering gasps, fingers that steal touches, his head falling back and his legs falling further open. He never says it aloud, but he communicates it with all of his being. ‘ _Inside_ '.

Kissing Khadgar feels so natural, especially since his young lover is responding to him so eagerly. He would be an idiot not to notice the way his lover spreads his leg even further, and his mouth goes dry when he imagines to be inside Khadgar without anything else between them. His hands do not find the lube fast enough, and when he finally has his fingers inside the younger man, he feels like he is going to go mad with suspense. Burning up with want is not something he wants to indulge in too often. Thus he soon coats himself with liquid, and knocks the head against Khadgar's entrance, his breath hard and husky. "Khadgar." His lips search the younger man's, "Fuck, this is gonna feel amazing." And then he starts to push inside that inviting warmth, tight and burning and just so perfect that he wants to sob with the pleasure of it.

It doesn't go as easy as it used to. Khadgar's hands grasp at the sheets, his breathing shallow. The friction was less when they still used a condom. Now, he gets to feel everything; every small ridge, the warmth of the flesh, and the way skin rubs and catches against skin. For as long as Lothar goes slow, Khadgar feels it all. He thinks he might pass out from the sensory overload of it. "Deeper," he encourages, and then, "Oh, Anduin. Slow. Like that. That's perfect." He keeps licking his lips, biting them with every course of pleasure, but his eyes have closed. All he can and wants to focus on are the overwhelming sensations. "Move."

Lothar grasps at sheets, his body bent above his lover in an aesthetic arc. Muscles tending, he tries desperately to hold himself back from pounding into Khadgar like a madmen, the friction short circuiting any reasonable thought process he might've had. All that is on his mind is _good_ and _hot_ and _Khadgar_.

He slowly gets used to the feeling of being inside his young lover skin on skin, though, and pulls out with care, then pushes back in. Out again. In, out, repeat. He's doing it so often that after a while he can't do anything but gasp Khadgar's name with each thrust, clinging to his young lover in obvious bliss.

His face is drawn down until Khadgar can kiss him sloppily. Khadgar means to be quiet; it is just that Lothar feels too damn good. Small, swallowed whimpers make way for a loud, desperate gasp and then, really, all bets are off. Khadgar's voice might not carry all the way downstairs, but anyone right outside that door will hear him.

And when Lothar finds his sweet spot, well, he has to smother his cry against his lover's neck. If his teeth leave an indent, Khadgar does not notice it. "Oh god," he pants. "More. More."

He asked for making love. But Khadgar is too far gone to ask for slow, and the whole idea of them being in a lavish, fluffy bed on Christmas Eve is romantic enough. He wants all that Lothar can give him.

And Lothar gives him more, but just a little, bit by bit, until he himself loses his mind to the pleasure. Khadgar has never felt this good before, and it should be illegal what big difference a missing condom can make.

Nevertheless, his thrusts become more forceful. To smother his own noises, he starts peppering Khadgar's neck with shaky kisses. His breath catches in his throats more than once. And soon enough he feels the telltale signs of his orgasm blossoming in the back of his stomach. "Fuck, Khadgar," he moans into his lover's ear, his entire body wrecked by pleasure, "I'm so close. God, _you_ feel so fucking amazing."

Khadgar laughs, exhausted but running on adrenaline. "Come for me," he goads. "Come in me." He is doing his best to clench some extra around Lothar, despite being a wreck that is close to falling apart, himself. All of himself is focused on bringing his lover to completion, wanting nothing more than to feel him come inside him that first time, before milking him for all he is worth.

Lothar's orgasm hits him the moment Khadgar's delicious insides clench around him; it feels so strange not to feel the squishy liquid shoot into a condom, and Lothar moans when Khadgar's body just takes it, drinks him empty. He has to kiss his young lover deeply, lest the entire family hears him downstairs when he comes. Khadgar's name is sweet within his mouth until it swirls around with hope and promise. Lothar is a mindful lover though; his hand finds Khadgar's neglected member and pumps it while his hips continue to push forward, to make sure his seed reaches deep within the younger man.

 _This is heaven_ , he thinks.

It is their first time in a decent bed, Khadgar thinks, and they are about to soil it before having slept in it. He holds onto Lothar, generous in his affections as he guides him through his orgasm and then, when Lothar finally comes down a bit, needs the same favor extended to him. His legs begin to shake, before soon his hands join. Every touch, every minimal amount Lothar gets deeper inside him, is potentially the last. His gasps pick up then, from erratic to audible. When at last he comes, his fingers dig painful crescents into his lover's back and his legs clench around Lothar's back. "… _Fuck_!" he cries.

With the last of his strength, Lothar props himself up on his arms. The moment Khadgar comes though, feels as if the tension is bleeding right out of him, leaving him as naught but a shaking mess high on endorphins. He tries to stay like this, he really does, but the bliss he feels right now is far too overwhelming, turning his arms and legs into putty. Collapsing on top of his lover at long last, his weight presses Khadgar into the sheets. He can feel his lover's legs around his waist twitching, and when he finally has his face in the sheets and his mouth on Khadgar's neck does his hands grip them securely, stroke them. "That was utterly amazing," is the only thing he can say right now. "You are amazing."

"And you," moans Khadgar languidly. "And not wearing anything." He is made of tired smiles, which he offers up for Lothar in between kisses and touches. "And this bed," he adds. "But most of all, you." He licks a teasing line down Lothar's neck, fully aware of how sensitive he must be. "One day, I hope I get to do that to you, too." And he wants to tell Lothar he loves him again. It is at the tip of his tongue. He does not; he doesn't want to pressure, when there are so many other ways to show him. "Do you think us taking a shower would be too obvious?" he wonders.

"I would have said yes," Lothar moans a little from the sudden coldness when he pulls out of Khadgar, leaving his young lover large and open. One part of him wants nothing more than to fill Khadgar again, but the tiredness creeping into his bones tells him otherwise. "But you coming was probably heard by everyone in the house." He grins, kisses Khadgar's jaw, his mouth coming close to those cute ears, "And I can't wait for you to pound into me, either, making me scream your name."

He wants to say more, but in the next moment, someone knocks on the door. Lothar pauses and looks to it, then takes the blanket and covers his lower region with it before he goes to answer. His sister is standing there, a pleasant blush on her face that cannot cover her shit-eating grin. She has two dishes in her hands, two slices of Death by Chocolate. Today's dessert. "I guess you had fun?"

She smirks when her brother closes the door just a little tighter as to hide Khadgar from sight. That is something that is only for Lothar. "If you must know? Yes." A blush colors his cheeks.

She laughs, "This young man suits you, Anduin."

He growls and manages to make the blanket stay over his hips, still covering him, before he takes the dishes. "Shut up, Taria," does he say when he closes the door in her face again.

She just chuckles at that. "Have some more fun tonight!"

Inside again, Lothar sets the two slices upon the nightstand and gets rid of the blanket. "Yep, I think most of the house heard you." He crawls next to Khadgar and kisses him. "But let them. You belong to me and me only."

Khadgar is clenching his legs together, trying without success to keep Lothar's seed from seeping into the mattress. He wants to hide his face, but it would make him move too much, and so he flushes. "I'm not usually—" But who is he kidding? He has grown into a rather loud person during his time together with Lothar. "And your sister—" Oh, he is embarrassed. "She brought us _dessert_? Oh, everybody knows."

So naturally, he doesn't get up for that dessert. It does look divine; if only he wouldn't be trying to keep the stain out of the mattress.

Lothar notices Khadgar clenching, trying to stay in this one position, as if something is bothering him. Suddenly the image of Cally doing exactly the same once flashes before his inner eye. I was a time when she had forgotten about her period and wanted to make sure not to make a mess on the mattress. It seems that it is the same with Khadgar. "Should I get a towel? Or carry you to the shower?"

"…Towel," the other nods gratefully. "I forgot about this bit." He rolls onto his stomach, because it feels like that might work better. Really, he wants to keep it in. He just doesn't have a very cooperative body, after Lothar worked him open so deliciously.

Of course, he forgets about the seed sticking to his stomach until it is too late.

The sight of Khadgar turning onto his stomach is so delicious that Lothar forgets that he is spent for a moment, forgets that he actually can't get hard again. All he wants to do is get his tongue into Khadgar's hole, preferably right now. His own speed surprises him, crawling to this one body part Khadgar now presents him with. Spreading the cheeks, he grins, then growls, "I promised you I'd do this," and then he dives right in, licking his own come out of the younger man.

For a moment Khadgar actually claws at the sheets. He has no idea what is happening; as soon as he does, his hips raise on their own accord, slightly off the bed, and a moan escapes him. Khadgar can't even think before his body responds. "Anduin," he breathes. Considers. And stretches against the sheets. "Deeper." Already he is going back from half hard to his interest decidedly piqued.

Khadgar's wish is his command; Lothar's tongue laps up every small drop it can catch. Although it feels a little bit weird to taste himself, it also turns him on immensely. His own erection tries to rise, but needs a lot longer than with the young man in front of him, who offers himself up so willingly. "Khadgar," Lothar breaths it against the hole and then starts to thrust his tongue in and out, in and out while his beard scratches against Khadgar's balls. One of his hands goes to Khadgar's hip to keep him in place, the other gently squeezes the sacks beneath his current prize.

And it takes not much else to get Khadgar riled up. Forgetting any resolution at romance, he pushes his ass back, bucks against Lothar's hand and uses the convenient pillow to stop bothering with keeping quiet. "Fingers," he comes out from under the pillow to insist, "but your mouth is so so incredibly good, too." He is completely shameless.

"How about I put my cock inside you again?" The thought of doing Khadgar in this position in his sister's house while she and her children are only a few rooms away has an appeal that Lothar cannot escape. It is so strong that it turns him on, in fact, and soon enough his cock is hard, too, while his fingers sink into Khadgar once more, opening him up to take something much better, bigger.

"Put it in me." If possible, Khadgar cants his hips up even more. "Don't hold back." He feels like he can take anything, right now, and he wants Lothar to give him his all. The bed can take it. "I'm so hot for you like you wouldn't believe," he admits.

"Me too, Khad-" even while he says it, Lothar positions himself behind his lover, lets the head of his thick cock slide over the entrance. "Fuck, I could do this to you all day." Those are his last words for a while as he sinks into his younger lover, only a string of moans and gasps leaving his mouth from then on. He pushes into Khadgar like a madman, as if he has been challenged to something, and delights in the friction his dick creates by rubbing against Khadgar's insides unabashedly. Whereas their earlier coupling had been slow and soft, this here is harsh and fast.

The dessert left forgotten on the nightstand, Khadgar finds himself flattened against the mattress. He loves every moment of him being pounded into, and it is even better when his breath is knocked out of him. "So good," he praises; almost babbles, "so, hn, so perfect. Fill me up again, love. You make me so full."

He does not last as long this time. Every thrust rubs his cock against the sheets, and Khadgar's body, slick with cum and lube, is sensitive enough to come again after only minutes.

Lothar loves it when Khadgar talks to him like this; when he praises him with words and body alike. He feels rather than sees the moment Khadgar comes. The muscles in his ass clench around Lothar's cock like a vice when he tenses, and it drags Lothar over the edge as well, his cock still sensitive from his former orgasm. His seed spurts into Khadgar, paints the insides of his younger lover white, and again Lothar collapses on Khadgar, catching his breath harshly.

Khadgar kisses his cheek, fast, sloppy, but full of affection. "I got lucky with you," he says. And goes limbless again as he tries to calm down. Twice, that fast after each other, is rather much. "The bed will be a mess. Let's sleep on top of the sheets tonight."

"I got lucky with you." Lothar means it, with every fiber of his being. He kisses Khadgar, long, deep and slowly, with feelings involved which he doesn't want to name yet. His hands stroke over Khadgar's body languidly, and then he rolls from his young lover, keeping his cock still inside him as he pulls the warm body upon him. "You can sleep on me if you want," he teases a little, his lips on Khadgar's neck.

"I feel so dirty," Khadgar laughs. "I'll sleep on you, sure, but help clean me up?"

"Of course," Lothar pulls out slowly, his soft cock slipping from Khadgar's hole easily. Almost immediately, he can see the white liquid trickling out of the younger man's ass. When his legs no longer quiver, he pulls Khadgar's arm over his shoulder, places another one beneath his lover's knee, and then stands up, carrying Khadgar to the shower ensuite to their bedroom. This is a very nice luxury, and he loves Taria's house for it right now.

Soon enough, they're both under the warm spray, Lothar supporting Khadgar while he carefully washes him.

The water takes away the smell of sweat and semen, before the shampoo and shower gel freshen them both up. Khadgar does his best not to get any soap in Lothar's eyes. He pulls himself against his lover halfway through, just to enjoy a naked hug and to count his graces, and laughs and smiles all along. "I'm going to feed you chocolate," he promises when they're toweling each other dry. And he stays true to his word; as soon as they have put a dry towel over the stain on the mattress and lie on top of that in comfortable flannels, Khadgar floats a spoonful of cake in front of the other's mouth. "I like Christmases."

"Me too." Lothar opens his mouth, eats the chocolate cake dangling in front of his face, and licks the entire fork clean, his tongue flicking over it several times. This movement is not meant to be sensual, but to get every piece of cake there is. Taria made it, so it is quite delicious. Lothar grips a fork himself and now feeds his younger lover something, too. "I like it even better now that you are in my life." Lothar knows that he probably sounds totally romantic, but he doesn't care.

"Yeah?" Khadgar does feed him, but proceeds to steal half of a spoonful from Lothar's lips before Lothar can get around to protecting himself from his thievery. It tastes good. "How was it before me? Because for me, I got tired with Home Alone at some point."

"Oh god, I've watched that movie one too many times," Lothar groans, then licks a wet stripe over Khadgar's lips. "This is so much better, you have no idea."

Khadgar captures his lip with his teeth before Lothar can get away. They dissolve into laughter and tooth-rotting sweetness, the kind that Khadgar has never quite experienced in such a mature way. He isn't young enough to find every touch an adventure, nor at that age when he can't get enough of it. There hasn't been anything like this before. It is serious. He likes it. "I'll bet you your family is watching that movie right now."

"All the better that we aren't with them anymore," Lothar murmurs. He snuggles against Khadgar, a yawn stretching his features. His gaze is as soft as velvet when it caresses his young lover, a kiss resting easily on Khadgar's cheek. He nudges his nose against the stubble, almost purrs. "Khadgar," his tone is pleading, "Tell me that you love me again. Please."

"I love you," Khadgar offers easily. It echoes in his voice, and fans out into a softening smile. If he doesn't want to overload Lothar, then times when he is being asked are the exceptions. He doesn't know how it happened so fast. His logical mind can make up a connection between having already liked him for a long time, combined with copious amounts of really good sex, but that still wouldn't account for how comfortable he feels around him. How he can be himself; how Lothar is growing more comfortable being himself around him, too. He loves the jabs they make at each other, before they fall into bed. They rarely ever have an attention span for anything other than each other when they are around each other, but when one of them really needs to, there is nothing but support. Khadgar can never capture that in words. "I love you," he says instead, and he hopes that Lothar hears all of what he means.

Every time Khadgar says those three wonderful words, Lothar can't help but shower Khadgar's shoulders and his neck with kisses, light, peppering touches with his lips on skin salty from sex. He can't get enough of this young man, and he is entirely grateful that Khadgar had once been so stubborn on the bus, had not let go of Lothar even when the latter had been anything but a nice person to the young man. He wants to thank whatever deity had taken the liberty of bringing them together, and he would make sure to show Khadgar how much he cares for him in the days to come.

Khadgar just smiles. He says it again a few times, that night; once by the fireplace, as a whisper, while he feels the eyes of everyone on him. Once when they go for a stroll and stay away too long for everyone's liking, even though snow is falling and they aren't stupid to try much when their hands alone are cold enough to cut short the only attempt at a quick handjob hidden under a few trees. And finally, Khadgar whispers it against Lothar's hair before he dozes off and falls asleep.

He spends Christmas Day happy to watch Lothar interact with his nephew and his niece. Taria asks him to help out with dinner, points out a hickey that he quickly tries to cover up with a turtleneck that has everyone in the know at once. And when the time comes for presents, he finds himself tucked into his new favorite chair, a blanket over his legs and a mug of hot cocoa in his hands, while the kids make short work of wrappings.

The rest of Christmas passes in a blur of happiness and love, sprinkled with chocolate and love. Lothar, in a sudden move of complete bliss, kisses Khadgar in front of his entire family—to the horror of the young man, who quickly hides his face as the catcalls sound. Lothar can only smile sheepishly, murmuring an apology into the younger man's neck.

It is only several weeks later that Lothar tells Khadgar how he feels, too. The way Khadgar's entire face lights up when he stares at the large birthday cake Lothar baked him, alongside the pile of presents from friends and family alike, make it surprisingly easy for the words to slip out. "I love you."

Stunned at first, Khadgar then throws himself at Lothar's arms and kisses his entire face. "I love you." Soon enough, they just moan the words into each other's ears, basking in their presence as a couple, melt into each other until they think they will become one being, deliriously happy as they are.

They still take the same bus every day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And one for the second day of Christmas. Thanks so much for your patience and continued support <3 We hope you liked it!


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